


Act I: High as Hope

by arcanecadenza



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: AFAB Asra (The Arcana), Female Apprentice (The Arcana), Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:54:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 71,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29062413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcanecadenza/pseuds/arcanecadenza
Summary: Cadenza is on a timeline.She has one year to study beneath her aunt in Vesuvia. She has one year before she has to return to the seclusion of her family's villa in Venterre. She has one year before she will have to continue down the dark and draining path that her parents have been having her walk since she was a child.During her time of relative freedom in Vesuvia, Cadenza must learn to make decisions for herself for the first time in her life. She must learn to ask for help, how to forge friendships or perhaps more (like with the fluffy-haired magician who is adept at reading Tarot that she feels inexplicably drawn to), and how to advocate for herself (even when pushy Counts seem intent on asking for more).But Cadenza must be careful, because danger still lurks in the shadows. It's a danger as old or perhaps even older than Vesuvia, itself. And it's a danger that knows her name, her face... her past.
Relationships: Apprentice/Asra (The Arcana)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 9





	1. Strangeness and Charm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cadenza attends her first Masquerade and finds herself desperately wanting out… only to find that she may just have to resort to accepting help from a stranger.

Cadenza’s ears were ringing.

She had done her best to keep to herself throughout most of the night, sticking to the gardens that allowed for plenty of space between herself and all the other partygoers, or even staking out different themed rooms from the hallway in the hopes of finding a moment of peace within their walls. And up until then, she had been doing so well at not getting overwhelmed by the novelty of it all. Her damaged senses of sight, smell, and taste had actually shielded her from the chaos, but her still-sensitive ears, unfortunately, were turning out to be her downfall.

As she stood in the doorway of the main ballroom of the Palace whose Count had so graciously opened up to the entire city of Vesuvia for the much-awaited Masquerade, Cadenza found herself wanting to clap her hands over her ears before running off into the night more and more with each passing second. Logically, she knew she couldn’t do that, however, as she had no clue how to get back to her aunt’s shop and had already decided that wandering dark streets in a city that was still mostly unfamiliar to her was not the way to go.

So, there Cadenza was: shoved as far out of the way as she could possibly manage and staring longingly all the way across an extremely crowded, extremely noisy ballroom at her aunt, Zia Nevra, who appeared to be in animated and drunken discussion with five people who managed to stand out even from a distance. She could hardly hear herself think over the noise assailing her ears—all she knew was that she wanted out. In fact, she wished she was back at the shop in that moment, lounging in the bathtub and wrapped up in quiet warmth while she sipped tea that she could actually taste.

“Are you planning a heist?”

The voice and the question that it carried came from behind Cadenza, from a close enough proximity that it managed to cut through the ringing in her ears. With her heart hammering in her chest, she turned around to face the person who had managed to creep up on her; expecting to see someone swaying on their feet, barely standing at all, with evidence of the decadence that they had indulged in on their clothes or face, and ready to dismiss them with a simple “leave me alone.” She met their gaze before she could get the words out,—their attentive violet eyes that caught the light in such a way that she could actually distinguish their colour—and the curt dismissal consequently died in her throat.

Cadenza shook her head slightly, but the action did nothing to help clear up the mess that the noise had made of her mind. It was only then that she realized she hadn’t actually caught what the stranger had said to her. “Repeat yourself,” she said, quite possibly a little louder than necessary.

“Are you planning a heist?” The stranger somehow managed to smile good-naturedly despite Cadenza’s snippiness and tilted her head toward the ballroom. “I promise I won’t tell on you, but I am curious about what it is that you’re planning on stealing. Is it the chandeliers? Some golden goblets and cutlery? Maybe even the Count’s golden arm?”

“What would make you think that I’m planning on stealing anything?” Cadenza fired back, her Venterrean accent growing stronger by the syllable.

“Ah, okay, my joke was in bad taste. Sorry. You just-” The stranger pursed their lips together, cutting themselves off. They remained silent for a couple of beats before speaking up. “You looked like you had something on your mind. It looks to me like you still do.”

Cadenza levelled the stranger with an intense stare as she tried to gauge their intentions. When her stomach didn’t twist itself into a knot, she relented. “I want to leave this place.”

“Oh.” Surprise and confusion flickered across the stranger’s expression. “You do know that you can leave anytime you want, right? Like, no one will keep you here or force you to stay until the sun comes up.”

“I know that.” Cadenza frowned, looking over her shoulder and back at the crowded ballroom. “But I need my zia to actually get back home.”

“Your… zia?”

“Yes. My zia—my aunt.” After a brief pause to furiously rub her temples, Cadenza turned on her heels such that she was facing the ballroom once more, her attention zeroing in on her aunt almost immediately. “The issue is reaching her.”

When the stranger moved to stand alongside Cadenza, she bristled, and they consequently took one step to the side. Despite not being directly beside her, they managed to follow her gaze nonetheless. “You don’t mean to say that the woman in the bright yellow suit talking to the Count and his Courtiers is your aunt?” they asked, their voice sounding slightly strained.

“Yes, I do mean to say that—although I couldn’t tell you any of their names beyond that of my aunt even if I tried.”

The stranger nodded to themselves as they stared across the ballroom, seemingly lost in thought. “Not a fan of crowds?” they asked in a tone that betrayed just how far off their thoughts had wandered.

“No,” Cadenza answered without a second of hesitation. “They’re too loud… too prone to pressing close and making me feel like I can’t breathe.”

“Yeah, I feel the same way.” Something in the stranger’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly as they continued to stare across the ballroom, but almost as soon as the change came about, it disappeared. They schooled their features into an earnest smile that they turned on Cadenza, their violet eyes sparking behind their mask. “That’s not to say that I can’t help you, though.”

Cadenza narrowed her eyes at the stranger and in that moment, she wished that they weren’t wearing a mask. The eyes were supposedly the window to the soul, but she had a hard time reading what was in them without other cues. “Explain,” she eventually said.

“It’s my understanding that the best way to keep people at a distance when you’re trying to cross a ballroom is by dancing.” The stranger took a small step toward Cadenza, and when she didn’t flinch away, they held out their hands: palms-up. “I can get you to your aunt, and I can make sure that no one bothers you in the process.”

“Fine.” Cadenza heaved a sigh and reached out to rest her hands very gently on top of the stranger’s. Hers went palm-down. “If you really are proposing to ‘dance me across the ballroom,’ you’ll have to take the lead.” Her gaze flicked up from their hands to look into the stranger’s eyes once more. “I don’t remember having danced a day in my life.”

“That’s okay.” The stranger smiled warmly at Cadenza. “I think I’m a good enough dancer to make up for it. Although, I should warn you that my style isn’t exactly… traditional.”

Before Cadenza could inquire further as to this “non-traditional” style of dancing, the stranger swept her out of the doorway and into the ballroom; already threading them through a cluster of people with more grace and ease than she ever could have managed on her own. The next thing she knew, they were weaving through other spinning, swaying, gyrating couples that took up the heart of the ballroom and who all seemed to be giving each other a wide berth as they moved in tandem with their partners.

At first, dancing felt to Cadenza like she was trying to move through water. Her body felt sluggish, her feet kept getting caught up in invisible riptides that seemed intent on yanking them out from beneath her. The stranger, her first ever and current dance partner, however, moved almost elusively and fluidly as water itself. They pulled her close and pushed her away like the tides that Cadenza had witnessed for the very first time right there in Vesuvia. And they moved seamlessly across the polished floors, too, almost as seamlessly as water spilling across glass.

“What are you thinking about?” the stranger asked; prompting Cadenza to lift her head from where she had been keeping it down to stare at their feet.

“Hm?” She blinked slowly and it took her a moment to actually fully register what it was that had been said to her what with the pre-existing stress on her senses. “I was just thinking that I’m not very good at this. At dancing.” She looked directly into the stranger’s eyes. “But you are. Very good.”

“Oh, um, thank you.” The stranger glanced away and if they hadn’t been wearing a mask, Cadenza was at least half-certain that she would have glimpsed a flush in their cheeks. “As for your dancing, you’re not bad at it.”

“I know—in fact, I said that I’m not very good.”

“Right.” A pause and the stranger led Cadenza in another slow spin before catching her in their arms. “Do you want some tips? To improve?”

“Well, I don’t know that I’m ever going to dance again after tonight, but… it would be all right if you told me, I suppose.”

The stranger seemed caught off guard by Cadenza’s answer, but they got over their surprise fairly quickly. “First thing’s first, I think the number one thing standing in your way is that you’re very tense.” Cadenza tensed her shoulders on instinct. “See? That’s it right, there. Just… breathe. Relax your shoulders and your arms, just feel the music and let yourself move with it—with me.”

The stranger smiled encouragingly at Cadenza and she did her best to take their words to heart. After all, they had asked and she had accepted. She exhaled slowly and tried to match her breathing to the steady rise and fall of the stranger’s chest. All she had to do was relax—relax and feel the music. She wasn’t so sure about relaxing, she wasn’t sure that she would be able to do that until she was back in the comfort of the shop and locked up in the complete silence of her room there, but if there was one thing that she knew very well (as a violinist and occasional composer), it was music.

With a shaky exhale, Cadenza allowed herself to drop her guard for the first time that entire evening. Rather than fixating on the chatter and the din of the other partygoers, however, she focused on the sound of music until all the other noise faded away. Even though it wasn’t a melody that she recognized, she imagined what it would be like to have her violin in her hands: how she would move her fingers across the strings as she played along, how her body would react to the music as it flowed from her instrument. Little by little, Cadenza found herself following the stranger’s movements with more ease.

“There you go!” The stranger let out a bright laugh. “I knew you had it in you!”

“Thank you.” Cadenza pursed her lips together, heat inexplicably creeping into her cheeks. “Your advice was very helpful.”

“Looks like I might make a dancer of you, yet.” The dancer shot Cadenza a playful smirk. “You don’t have to set aside your dancing shoes after tonight—I mean, as far as I know, no one will force you to.”

Now, she wasn’t sure what exactly prompted it and she wouldn’t be able to name a reason if she tried, but for the first time since Cadenza had met the stranger, she took a moment to really look at them. Although she couldn’t see their face behind what appeared to be a hand-carved fox mask and get the full picture of what they looked like, it somehow didn’t matter since she could still see their eyes—their eyes whose shimmering violet somehow didn’t appear at all muted in colour and complexity to her. She hardly paid any mind to their other visible features. Not their lips, not the shape of their chin, not anything. All she could see was their eyes.

The longer Cadenza danced with the stranger, the longer their hands were linked together, and the longer she managed to get away with gazing directly into their eyes, the more she got the feeling that there was something there that she just wasn’t seeing. She couldn’t, however, figure out what that something was for the life of her. Before she could get a better idea of what it might be about the stranger that had gotten under her skin, her dance with them wound down to an end and they led her in one last lazy spin. Ever so delicately, the stranger steadied Cadenza very briefly against their chest, then allowed her hands to slip from theirs as they took a step back.

“Well, here you are,” they said with a smile and Cadenza realized that they had made it to the other side of the ballroom, that she was now standing only a couple of feet away from her aunt. “Dancing with you was fun, but I really should leave you now.”

With that, the stranger started to move away. In a moment of impulsivity and thoughtlessness, Cadenza reached out for them and wrapped her fingers around their wrist; preventing them from slipping back into the crowd and consequently disappearing on her. To make things worse, and before she could stop herself, she had reached out to touch a hand to the stranger’s face. Her palm only managed to brush their cheek and her thumb had just barely made contact with their forehead when the stranger jerked away, but still. It was clear even to Cadenza by the look on their face that the damage was done.

“What do you think you’re doing?” the stranger asked curtly, their tone betraying discomfort.

Deep down, Cadenza knew that she should just drop it. That she should just let the stranger go and carry on with their life like they must have been doing before that evening, before their encounter. But she couldn’t let it go. “You have a lot of magical potential—did you know that?”

Instead of giving a straight answer, the stranger shook their head; their eyes narrowing as they glanced from Cadenza to a point somewhere over her shoulder. When they met her gaze again, their expression was cool. Cold. “I think your aunt’s coming this way.”

Foolishly, Cadenza turned briefly in the direction that the stranger had indicated only to see that her aunt was still standing where she had last seen her. When she turned around to face the stranger once more, they were gone and she didn’t catch so much as a glimpse of them anywhere in the ballroom. A wave of emotion washed over Cadenza,—an emotion that she, of course, could not name—and she felt the overwhelming urge to sit down. She had messed up, that much she knew. But why did she feel so… awful if she probably wasn’t ever going to see the violet-eyed stranger ever again?

“Oh, there you are, Enzina, I was wondering where you had disappeared to.”

The sound of the familial nickname made Cadenza’s shoulders tense and she turned around somewhat stiffly in the direction of her aunt’s voice. Some of that tension melted from her shoulders, however, at the comforting sight of her aunt waving animatedly at her; wine sloshing onto the floor from her glass. She had hardly taken one step toward her aunt before the woman was making the move, herself, to close the distance between them; sweeping Cadenza beneath a surprisingly strong arm and pulling her close to her side.

“Zia Nevra, I need to-”

But before Cadenza could get the words out that she needed to go home, her aunt was already talking over her and ushering her toward the Count of Vesuvia and his Courtiers. “This is my niece that I mentioned to you earlier.” Her jade-green eyes flickered over to Cadenza. “Go on, introduce yourself, cara.”

A sigh filtered past Cadenza’s lips and she briefly turned her gaze onto the polished floor for a few seconds: quietly gathering what little remained of her strength. She was in for a long night, still. “My name is Cadenza and I’m going to be working at my aunt’s shop for the next few months because I’ve decided to pursue a magician’s apprenticeship with her.”


	2. Remain Nameless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cadenza meets the Count of Vesuvia (and 4/5 of his Courtiers, but mainly Quaestor Valdemar).

“My name is Cadenza and I’m going to be working at my aunt’s shop for the next few months because I’ve decided to pursue a magician’s apprenticeship with her.”

A long silence followed Cadenza’s straightforward introduction and she briefly found herself wondering if she had actually spoken too quietly to be heard. What with the persistent ringing in her ears, it was hard to tell whether she was speaking at an acceptable volume. Not that she particularly cared whether or not she had been heard by her current audience comprising of the apparent Count of Vesuvia and his Courtiers. She didn’t know them. _At all_. Their approval meant virtually nothing to her… and, quite honestly, why should it?

“Oh, _tesoro_ , you’re selling yourself short once again.” Ginevra, Cadenza’s aunt, squeezed one of her niece’s shoulders and turned her beaming smile on the Count. “She’s a very talented magician in her own right, I’m merely providing her with more structure than she’s used to.”

“What kind of magician are you anyway?”

The Count’s question was pointed, direct, and Cadenza was somewhat caught off guard that he had skipped over all pretences of giving a damn regarding the specifics of the tutelage that she was receiving under her aunt. In her experience, were always more likely to dance around the questions they so desperately wanted to ask rather than asking them outright. Although the question was out in the open, that didn’t mean that it was any easier for Cadenza to answer. What kind of magician _was_ she? It was a loaded question, one that filled her with dread that seemed intent on cutting her down.

“I’m a… I…,” Cadenza murmured, the words caught in her throat and her gaze downturned as intense shame washed over her. It was one of the few emotions that she could readily name, and by the Gods, it never ceased to make her want to crawl into a hole and disappear. Still, she knew that she couldn’t _not_ answer the Count’s question. “I’m a necromancer.”

If the Count and his Courtiers were only going to feign attention before out of deference to her aunt, with whom they were already familiar, Cadenza had little to no doubts that she had their real and full attention now. The Count’s dark eyebrows drew together in an almost thoughtful manner, his eyes narrowing to a degree that Cadenza almost couldn’t distinguish where his sclera ended and his silvery-grey irises began. Among the Courtiers, heads tilted, fingers stopped twitching, and gazes fixed on her. Even the two who had shown the least interest toward her,—one small and one who wore gauntlets with razor-sharp fingers—paused their bickering.

“Necromancy,” the Count said in a tone that Cadenza couldn’t place, “that’s the spooky shit with dead people right?”

“She means animancy, Lucio, no need to be alarmed,” Ginevra cut in before Cadenza could answer for herself. Without glancing away from Lucio for a second, she reached down to brush the back of her hand against her niece’s in a manner that was meant to be comforting. “There’s no true Venterrean equivalent for the term, and although it is a _distinct_ form of magic, it’s often grouped in with necromancy, regardless. Semantics, truly.”

The Count, whose name was evidently Lucio, shrugged his shoulders and when he lowered them they appeared to be distinctly less tense than earlier. “ _Yeeeah_ , okay, so can I get a demo or what?” At that, his curious gaze slid as fluidly as quicksilver from Ginevra over to Cadenza, who felt rooted to the spot.

“Animancy, like most forms of magic, takes a great deal of energy to practice,” Cadenza replied with more care than she typically would, taking the cue that her aunt had quietly given her and that she had graciously managed to pick up on. “And unfortunately, Count Lucio, I’m feeling quite drained.”

“Come on, what’s the ‘reading tea leaves in a cup’ of animancy?” Lucio pressed on and Ginevra only barely managed to conceal the roll of her eyes. “What’s something magical that you can do without using too much energy?”

Cadenza’s patience was wearing dangerously thin and she had to bite her tongue to keep herself from snapping at Lucio. “The only thing that I can think of would require me to put my hands on you,” she said, taking a small step forward, “and I doubt that that would be acceptable.”

Lucio tilted his chin up and straightened out to his full height as Cadenza drew closer to him. “Actually, I’m the Count and I get to decide what’s acceptable. So, go ahead.”

In that moment, any and all common sense abandoned Cadenza; leaving her at the mercy of her own impulses. She might have been fine any other day, but that particular night, she was overwhelmed and operating at far past her limits. Her hands twitched at her sides, ready to satisfy Lucio’s request, but before she could even raise them, her aunt was swiftly stepping in front of her and nudging her back two steps. One of Ginevra’s hands also found one of Cadenza’s, and she clutched her fingertips tightly; sending the straightforward yet silent message that she would be taking care of things from there.

“Animancy has a certain effect on people—it wouldn’t be wise to have my niece demonstrate any techniques on you at this moment. Wouldn’t want the special makeup look that you did for your party to be ruined, would you?”

Lucio shook his head, his features arranging themselves into an indignant expression. “I’m not going to say I’m sorry for not knowing what the fuck animancy even is. Isn’t there some _normal_ magic you could do for me?” He peered at Cadenza pointedly. “It’s my birthday.”

“That’s really not how-” Cadenza started to say only for Ginevra to cut in as smoothly as ever, wearing her sly smile without betraying a hint of strain and her jade-green eyes gleaming all the while.

“If you would really, so desperately like a demonstration of my dear Enzina’s magic, I’m certain that we can arrange a more convenient time for it. Gods know that her schedule is wide open.” Ginevra threw her head back with a wild laugh, which prompted Lucio to chuckle as well. “How about that?”

Lucio shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his upper lip drawn back ever so slightly as he seemed to consider Ginevra’s offer. Finally, he let out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine, but let’s figure it out now—I don’t like to be left waiting and wondering.”

“Of course.” Ginevra turned around to address Cadenza, briefly dropping the facade to give her a sympathetic look. “We can head home just as soon as I figure this out with Lucio…,” she trailed off, glancing at the half-full goblet of wine in her hand. “And just as soon as I finish my wine.”

Cadenza folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t like it, _zia_.”

“What? The wine?”

“No.” Cadenza nodded in a way that she hoped was discreet at Lucio, although judging by the way her aunt moved to stand directly in front of her and block her from view, she had been less than subtle. “I don’t like the idea of doing anything for him.”

“Lucio? Oh, he’s harmless.” Ginevra waved a hand in front of her as if to clear the air. “He just has a very keen interest for magic but no talent of his own for it. If he had it his way, he would surround himself with magicians. Unfortunately for him, I’m one of the few magicians in Vesuvia who can stand to be around him for hours at a time.”

Cadenza frowned, still plagued with uncertainty. “Promise me that we’re going back to the shop right after this.”

“You don’t take me at my word? _Furba_. Fine, I promise—no more trips to the banquet table for me and straight home after I’m done with the dear Count.” Ginevra smiled warmly at Cadenza, before rearranging her features into a more professional look that would undoubtedly leave Lucio guessing as to what she was thinking. “Now, stand back and let your Zia Nevra take care of things.”

It begrudged Cadenza to let someone else make decisions in her stead, but she had to admit that since her arrival in Vesuvia, her aunt had yet to lead her astray and had seemingly done everything in her power to make her as comfortable as possible. So, with a soft, defeated sigh, Cadenza took yet another step back and went as far as turning her back to Lucio—out of sight, out of mind, and whatnot. She couldn’t even bring herself to listen in on the conversation that was _about her_. Cadenza’s head was killing her, she was exhausted, and the only thing she could hear other than the incessant chatter that filled the ballroom was the sound of her own thudding heart.

“You’re an animancer?”

Cadenza startled at the sound of an unfamiliar voice right in her ear and she whipped her head around to face an imposing figure whose face was concealed by a skull mask. She recognized them as being one of Lucio’s Courtiers, but she had no idea who they were beyond that. Something about them filled her with a familiar, awful feeling. “Y-Yes.” She swallowed hard. “Yes, I am.”

“I don’t believe I have ever had the opportunity to study an animancer.” The Courtier steepled their gloved fingers almost thoughtfully. “Then again, in all my time in this world, I have only ever heard of animancy referred to as ‘white necromancy.’ And if I am not mistaken, you first referred to yourself as a ‘necromancer.’” They leaned in closely to Cadenza, their eyes searching her face behind their mask. “Why is that, I wonder?”

“I made a mistake, plain and simple.” Cadenza wasn’t sure what it was about the Courtier that so unsettled her, but instinct told her to _lie_. It was taking all of her willpower not to fold herself away from them as well. “Vesuvian isn’t my first language.”

“Hm.” The Courtier made a move like they were going to take a step back only to lean all the way back in at the last possible moment. “I have worked with countless necromancers in the past, and you… you remind me of them.”

“I finished my wine!” Ginevra cut in between Cadenza and the Courtier, one arm wrapping protectively around her niece’s shoulders. “Apologies for cutting your conversation short, Quaestor, but Enzina and I really must get going—the poor dear is barely standing at this point, I’ve kept her out too long.”

The Quaestor straightened out and finally stepped back, providing Cadenza her much needed room to breathe. “That’s a shame—‘Enzina’ was proving herself to be an interesting topic of conversation, indeed.” They nodded at Ginevra and then at Cadenza, in turn, their gaze lingering on the latter just a few beats too long. “Good night. Be seeing you around.”

It was Ginevra who ended up ushering Cadenza away despite the latter’s earlier’s insistence to leave, and she waited until they were out of earshot of Count Lucio and his Courtiers to ask: “ _Va tutto bene?_ ”

Cadenza shook her head and shot a tentative look over her shoulder, her gaze sliding slowly from Lucio to the Quaestor. “ _Penso proprio di no._ ”


	3. What Kind of Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cadenza gets up close and personal with Count Lucio, and gets a real scare.

In keeping with the agreement struck between Count Lucio and her aunt, Cadenza found herself following the Palace’s chamberlain through the maze of hallways, her sandals slapping loudly against the cool marble tiles. Only a week had passed since the Masquerade, and Cadenza was wary about having to see the Count again so soon when their last encounter had been less than pleasant—not to mention the fact that the memory of it was still fresh in her memory. So, in the brief time that remained between having to interact with him all over again, she focused on putting one foot in front of the other and on the pleasant silence that permeated the Palace.

Eventually, the chamberlain came to a stop in front of an ornate wooden door with a golden handle. “We’re here, Miss Cadenza.”

“Ah, good, _I suppose_ ,” Cadenza said haltingly, unsure of what she was meant to do from there. She stared at the chamberlain who merely stared back at her for a couple of beats before glancing at the door. “Do I… go inside?”

“Yes,” the chamberlain replied evenly, but he made no move to open the door. “Best of luck.”

With that, the chamberlain dismissed himself with a swift bow; leaving Cadenza standing stock-still and stiff-limbed outside of the mysterious room in which Count Lucio was supposedly waiting for her. A frantic feeling welled up in her chest, one that left her feeling entirely devoid of breath and forced her to lean heavily against the wall. She wasn’t sure exactly what she was feeling, the name of that particular emotion, but she could hazard a guess as to _why_ she felt like… well, _shit_.

The lavishness and luxury surrounding her felt hollow, it gave her no comfort, and she was forced to close her eyes in order to find some semblance of steadiness within. Her breathing was loud as she forced herself to take slow, even breaths. She did her best to chase the memories of the Masquerade from her mind, to forget about the Count’s incessant questioning that had made her skin prickle and her words sharpen, to forget about the Quaestor who had invaded her space and read her like sheet music; using just the right words and questions to pluck at tense strings.

_“I have worked with countless necromancers in the past, and you… you remind me of them.”_

Cadenza opened her eyes with a jolt. Today was a new day. The Palace was quiet. Quaestor Valdemar was nowhere to be seen. And Count Lucio…. Cadenza glanced back at the door beside her and let out a long exhale through her nose. She could only hope that since she was _here_ , he would be less inclined to questioning her as to every step of her process. As she reached for the golden handle, she had to remind herself that her aunt wasn’t there to hold her hand this time around and that she, alone, was responsible for keeping herself in check.

The door swung open with a slight whine and Cadenza entered the room quietly, the sound of her footsteps dampened as she found plush carpeting beneath her sandals. The room that she had entered was inundated with bright light as the farthest wall was composed entirely of panelled glass that allowed daylight inside unfettered. The view outside was of the Palace gardens, or so Cadenza assumed given the vast amount of greenery that could be seen. She could also spy a vast amount of white rose bushes beyond the glass, and she noted that white roses filled some of the vases in the room itself as well.

Count Lucio, himself, was sitting on a sofa that faced the glass wall with one arm draped across the backrest and the other gripping the stem of a glass filled with a dark red liquid. _Blood_. Cadenza squeezed her eyes shut and reopened them quickly. No, it wasn’t blood, it was red wine that the Count was drinking. Cadenza observed Count Lucio for a few moments, how he sat so still that he might have been mistaken for a pale, golden-haired statue if not for the occasional raising of his glass to his lips to drink.

Eventually, Cadenza cleared her throat and Lucio shot to his feet with a start. “Fuck, you’re a quiet one,” he exclaimed as he turned around to face her, wine sloshing from his glass and onto the carpet, although he didn’t seem to care. “Announcing yourself when you walk into a room is always a good move. You should try it sometime.”

“… You were expecting me.”

“Yeah, and I was starting to think you weren’t gonna show, so I turned around to enjoy the view.” Lucio gestured toward the windows, spilling more wine on the carpet in the process. That time, he made a face, took one last sip, and set the glass down on the edge of a table. “Whatever. You’re here now.”

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

For a few beats, Cadenza stood there semi-awkwardly, arms hanging at her sides somewhat limply. What was she supposed to do next? This wasn’t the shop, this was the Palace, and she didn’t have her aunt there to look to for guidance. This also wasn’t a regular customer who had wandered in off the street, this was the Count of Vesuvia that she was dealing with, and although she didn’t know the technical ins and outs of how she was to address the upper classes, she recalled her aunt’s warning that holding her tongue around nobility was wiser than letting loose.

“ _Well?_ ” Lucio prodded when it seemed like Cadenza’s silence was going to drag longer than it already had.

“Well, what?”

Lucio appeared momentarily caught off guard by the nonchalant response. “What’s next? _You’re_ the magician and I’m your paying client—your _highest-paying_ client, no less! I hired you for a demonstration and you’re just… standing there. If I wanted to look at something completely still I would have saved my money and bought a statue!”

Frustration bubbled inside of Cadenza and she bit the inside of her cheek in order to keep herself from lashing out. When she found it in her to speak without snapping, her voice came out somewhat forced, clipped. “If you would still like for me to go through with my _demonstration_ , disrobe down to your waist and lie down.” She inhaled and exhaled shakily. “Please.”

Count Lucio didn’t need to be told twice. He shrugged his red satin robe from his shoulders and allowed it to drop on the floor, leaving him standing only in shorts made of the same material. His golden arm glinted in the sunlight, drawing Cadenza’s eye, and she watched as he raised it in the air alongside his other—seemingly stretching—as he walked over to a bed whose gilded headboard was flush with an entirely reflective wall. Cadenza shook her head slightly as she walked over to where Lucio had laid down on his back, stopping at the foot of the bed.

“It would be more convenient for me if you had a cot.” Cadenza had to stop herself from adding “as opposed to _this_ monstrosity.”

“Why the hell would I own a cot? Who do you think I am?”

“The Count of Vesuvia,” Cadenza answered easily and met his silvery gaze. “One would think you would be able to afford one.”

Lucio pressed his lips together and his face flushed bright red. “You’re doing a lot of talking and not a lot of magic,” he muttered. “Either fix it or get out.”

“Of course.” Cadenza did her best to keep her tone even, polite. “I need to do a quick assessment before we begin, please try to hold still.”

With that, she climbed onto the bed, settled on her knees with the skirt of her dress pooling around them and on the spectacularly soft bedsheets. She cracked her knuckles and stretched forth her hands, hovering them over Count Lucio’s abdomen, but she hesitated to lower them. The Count was looking at her with curiosity, but that wasn’t what gave her pause. There was something else swimming in his eyes—a look that she recognized as trepidation. It was a look that she knew well as she had seen it many, many times before. She pulled her hands away.

In her desire to get things over with, Cadenza hadn’t at all explained to Lucio what, exactly, she was going to do. How her magic worked, how she employed it. Although she wasn’t happy about being there, she figured that, at the very least, she owed him some explanations. She took a deep breath. Words of reassurance had never come easily to her and she struggled to find a starting point with Count Lucio—who was still watching her carefully, and who had raised his eyebrows at her as if to ask what in the world was taking her so long. Before he could ask that out loud, however, Cadenza spoke up.

“I’m just going to lay my hands on you for now. I won’t exert any pressure, I won’t use any magic… _yet_. This is just to get a preliminary reading. All right?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever you need to do,” Lucio answered, although he appeared to be significantly more at ease.

With a brisk nod that she hoped came across as _somewhat_ reassuring, Cadenza lowered her hands to Count Lucio’s exposed abdomen. She closed her eyes moments later—she couldn’t explain it, but it was easier for her to _see_ when everything else was blocked out. The Count was warm and solid beneath her palms, but there was an underlying coldness that seemed to seep from his bones that Cadenza, and only Cadenza, could feel. Her cool skin prickled as if chilblain were attempting to set in.

She moved her hands in an attempt to escape the uncomfortable sensation and Count Lucio’s muscles twitched beneath her in response. Cadenza blew out a soft sigh. The life-force that every single living thing carried within them was unique to them, but Cadenza had to admit to herself that she had never gotten a reading like the one she was getting from Count Lucio. If someone were to ask her to explain it out loud, she wouldn’t have been able to, but it felt like… it felt like there was _something_ coiling around the Count’s meridians interfering with the flow of his life-force through his body.

“Many of your meridians are blocked, Count Lucio,” Cadenza said, withdrawing her touch and opening her eyes.

“Uhh, what does that mean?”

“It means that your life-force isn’t flowing optimally. Tell me, what is your sleep like? Do you experience aches and pains that have seemingly no explanation?”

Lucio sat up and glanced to the side. “Why do you need to know?”

“I don’t _need_ to know. But it’s helpful for me to know these things. It helps me figure out what I ought to work on first—how I would best be able to help you.”

“I don’t need help,” Lucio snapped, “I can manage on my own.”

“Okay, if you do not wish or require my services, I can leave.” Cadenza started to shuffle back, off the bed, but Lucio reached for her; stopping just before his fingertips could come into contact with her.

“Wait. Don’t go.” Lucio schooled his features to hide the desperation and hope in his expression, not realizing that Cadenza wouldn’t have likely been able to pick up on them anyway. “I paid for a full demonstration of your magic, not just a ‘preliminary reading.’”

“Understood.” Cadenza pressed her lips together and gave Lucio a moment to settle comfortably on the bed again. “Is there anywhere you would like me to begin? Any one area that you feel particular tension that you can’t seem to relieve?”

Lucio hesitated for a moment, then touched his hand to the northernmost section of his abdomen, a little ways from where his sternum ended. “Here.”

“Now, I must warn you that my magic can have an… _intense_ effect on people. If you need me to stop at any given moment, please let me know in one way or another. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, yeah, I understand. Get on with it. Show me what this magic of yours is like.”

“It’s not so much a matter of showing…,” Cadenza said as she lowered a hand until her frigid fingertips brushed against the spot that Lucio had pointed out to her, “as it is a matter of _feeling_.”

She waited until Count Lucio relaxed his shoulders, once he did, Cadenza jabbed her fingertips into him. A couple of things happened when she did this. First, her own magic seeped from her fingertips and found its way to the meridian in question—a meridian that didn’t hum or thrum like it was supposed to, but rather gargled as something unseen choked it. Second, Lucio let loose a confused shout when he felt a sudden and intense pressure climbing within him—a pressure that was caused by the interaction between Cadenza’s magic and the blockage affecting that meridian.

Most shockingly, however, was what happened after that. Because third, as Cadenza massaged her fingertips harder into Count Lucio’s now-sweat-slicked skin and urged her magic to proceed, the blockage lashed out at her as opposed to slowly dissolving as was typical. The magician snatched her hand away with a yelp at that, feeling as though she had just been bitten by a snake. To make matters worse, her fingertips temporarily blackened as well, and Cadenza felt a fear well up in her that she had never felt while practicing animancy before.

“Wow, I… I actually feel a little better,” Lucio remarked, sitting up and puffing out his chest. “What is it that you did, exactly?”

Cadenza didn’t answer. At least, not right away. She was still staring at her fingertips, still looking for evidence of a wound that she knew she wouldn’t find. “I’ll explain another time—if you would like for me to come back, that is,” she replied somewhat absently, glancing around uneasily. “For now, I need… I need to go. Back to my shop. To my aunt.”

Instead of waiting around for an answer, Cadenza stumbled out of the room, almost caught in a trance. She could hear Count Lucio’s voice somewhere behind her, but she could no longer make out what he was saying. She brought her fingertips up closer to her eyes, continued to inspect them and scour them for marks that could explain the pain that was still lancing all the way up her arm. She found nothing. When she finally managed to tear her gaze away from her fingers and looked up to take in her surroundings, she realized with a start that the sun was setting and that she had no idea where she was.


	4. Girl With One Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cadenza is cornered by Quaestor Valdemar.

As it turned out, Cadenza’s hasty departure had done nothing to deter or dissuade Count Lucio from scheduling more appointments with her. He appreciated the relief, however temporary, that her animantic practices provided so much that the young magician found herself returning to the Palace every week: beginning with one weekly visit and eventually progressing to one nearly every other day. And while she still found the Count to be somewhat grating on the nerves, she was no longer nervous about being in his presence.

No, the only thing that still concerned Cadenza was what she sensed twisting beneath Count Lucio’s skin, around his meridians. She had been so frightened when that energy had lashed out at her during that first session that she had begged her aunt for gloves made of heavy velvet. She hadn’t experienced a scare like that again, but she was still hesitant when she worked on Count Lucio… always carrying a nervous sort of anticipation as she quietly wondered when the resistance she was feeling to her magic would turn into another attack that would rattle her all over again.

Today’s session with Count Lucio had been ended early by him, something about having to oversee some party preparations to ensure that the animals in his menagerie wouldn’t be disturbed. Cadenza put up no argument with this, of course, as she was being paid the same regardless of the session being cut short. This change of plans did result in her having some free time before she was expected back at the shop, however, and since Count Lucio didn’t seem to mind, she decided that she would walk around the Palace for a bit—enjoy the relative peace and quiet.

As she aimlessly wandered the hallways, sandals slapping against the marble all the while, she observed the preparations taking place for a party she did not yet know the reasons for which it was being held. So far, the decorations didn’t seem nearly as lavish or elaborate as the ones she had seen at the Masquerade, but they were still quite impressive. Although her eye was by no means trained, Cadenza got the sense that the theme for this upcoming party was much more cohesive than the “theme” (if one could call it that) for The Masquerade had been. Who was it, exactly, that the Count was trying to impress?

“Hey, you can’t be walking around here while we’re trying to work, miss.”

At that, Cadenza was abruptly snapped from her thoughts. Blinking and shaking her head slightly, she met the gaze of an exasperated-looking worker with sweat glistening on their brow. “Apologies,” she said and then tentatively asked: “Is there somewhere I can go where I won’t disturb anyone?”

The worker nodded down the hallway. “Yeah, probably the library. The Count doesn’t make much use of it and neither do visitors, usually, so as far as I know, we’re not setting anything up in there.”

“Thank you.”

With a brief incline of her head (something her aunt had told her was respectful to do), Cadenza excused herself and set out in the direction that the worker had indicated to her as the way to the library. Surely enough, she found its large, ornately carved wooden doors within moments and remarked that the handles didn’t appear to be very worn, which suggested that it was a space that _really_ wasn’t often visited by _anyone_. She shrugged. All the better for her. The less likely she was to be disturbed, the more at ease she felt within the Palace walls—this was true for her everywhere, really.

She opened the doors carefully nonetheless, peering inside to ensure whether it was really empty or not before stepping inside and closing them behind her. Dust swirled in sunbeams that filtered into the room through a stained glass window that nearly stretched to the ceiling. Ivy crept down pillars of marble that had yellowed slightly due to a lack of upkeep, flecks of rust marked metal handrails and ladders that led up to the second level. It was a true shame that such a lovely space was apparently falling into disrepair, especially considering all of the knowledge contained in the books that lived there.

Cadenza walked the perimeter of the library, sticking close to the bookshelves and running her fingers across the spines of the books, themselves, lifting layers of dust onto her digits as she did. Eventually, she came to a stop in front of the fireplace and turned her gaze up to the stained glass window that still managed to let light in despite the fact that it looked as though it hadn’t been cleaned in a long time. She shook her head. How many riches did Count Lucio possess? And why was he so quick to discount knowledge as one of those riches? This library was, in all likelihood, a treasure trove.

After hauling over and carefully positioning an armchair in front of the fireplace, Cadenza managed to climb onto the mantelpiece and was pleasantly surprised to find a window seat. She settled into it immediately, regardless of dust and cobwebs in the corners, and used one of her balled-up velvet gloves to clean the stained glass just enough for her to be able to look outside. It just so happened that she was met with a view of the gardens—a view that fortuitously allowed her to continue observing the party preparations taking place.

The young magician was so engrossed in what was happening in the gardens that she didn’t notice that the doors had opened and closed (quietly), that someone had walked (also quietly) across the carpeted floor until they stood just a few feet away from the fireplace atop which Cadenza was sitting. The individual leaned back against a dust-covered desk, made sure to arrange themselves comfortably like a cat sunning itself, and then—only then—made their presence known.

“Enzina, was it?”

Cadenza’s blood ran cold at the sound of that terribly familiar voice, and she turned around to face its owner incredibly slowly as her body seemingly refused to respond to the command of her mind. “Quaestor Valdemar.” She swallowed hard when she met the Courtier’s scarlet gaze. “Only family members call me ‘Enzina.’ My name is Cadenza.”

“Well then, _Cadenza_ ,” Valdemar practically tutted, “you have proven to be a very difficult magician to track down.”

“How so?”

“You always run off after your appointments with Count Lucio, back to your little shop, almost as if you are afraid of what you will find or what will find you if you were to stay in the Palace a moment longer.” Valdemar tilted their head to the side, almost to an unnatural angle, and steepled their fingers. “Why don’t you come down from there so that we might have a more… level discussion?”

Cadenza shifted uncomfortably on the window seat, hands clenching and unclenching slowly as she weighed her options. Could she even say “no” to having this discussion? She certainly wanted to, and just excuse herself before making her way back to the shop at as brisk a pace as possible. But something told her that she would be having this conversation one way or another, and that if she didn’t have it now, it would most certainly be sprung on her another time. Eventually, Cadenza relented with a somewhat hesitant nod of her head nodded and carefully climbed down from the mantlepiece, hyper-aware of Quaestor Valdemar’s unwavering stare.

Despite being fairly tall, Cadenza felt small in Valdemar’s presence. “What did you want to discuss, Quaestor?”

“You.” Valdemar pushed off of the desk and invaded Cadenza’s personal space all over again, just like they did on the night of the Masquerade. Their breath was surprisingly cool and their teeth were wickedly sharp as they grinned. “I did some research since we last spoke and I have been looking for a magician like you for a very long time.”

It was taking Cadenza every ounce of strength that she possessed to keep from flinching away. “What do you mean?”

“You are from Venterre, are you not? Your accent is quite distinct. So are those eyes.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Cadenza replied boldly, “but yes, I am from Venterre. Now, what do you mean when you say that you’ve been looking for a magician ‘like me’ for such a long time?”

“You hide behind the name ‘animancer,’ but such a fancy title cannot hide what people have been burying in your homeland,” Valdemar said, their grin growing wider while Cadenza shrank back. They reached out to take Cadenza’s hands in their own, inspecting her palms. “Tell me, _necromancer_ … what did you do with their hearts?”

Cadenza’s heart skipped a beat and she wrenched her hands away from Quaestor Valdemar. In that moment, she felt a coldness and emptiness that she could only call pure terror. “I didn’t do anything with their hearts.”

Valdemar leaned in closer and they seemed to emanate a cold like death. “So you don’t deny being the one who put them in the ground?”

“No. But I didn’t- I didn’t kill them. They were already dead or dying when they were brought to me.”

“Something had to have killed them, and the evidence points to you.”

“I tried to help them, but it always… it always went wrong and I don’t know why. They never came back _right_ , so I…,” Cadenza trailed off, steeling herself, “so I showed them _mercy_.”

“You say that you never brought them back ‘right,’” Valdemar said quietly, almost softly, “but I think you brought them back _perfectly_. Did you know, young necromancer, that you have been creating demons all these years?”

Cadenza clenched her jaw hard and shook her head as she took a step back. “ _No_. No, I never- No.”

“Your work was somewhat sloppy, sure, although that was to be expected when you had so few resources at your disposal,” Valdemar continued, evidently unperturbed by Cadenza’s reaction. “I can give you what you were missing. I can help you continue down this path—your potential is too great to ignore.”

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Cadenza snapped, her voice going shrill and accent growing thicker as she was overwhelmed by a wave of emotion. “What if I don’t want to? What if I don’t want to do what I did ever again? We’re done here.”

“Oh, Enzina,” Valdemar laughed patronizingly, “one way or another, you are going to find your way back to me.”

With her skin crawling and hands balled into trembling fists at her sides, Cadenza fled the library; throwing the doors shut behind her with a _bang_ that reverberated down the hallway. She was shaking from head to toe, but she couldn’t let that stop her—what she needed was to get as far away from Quaestor Valdemar as possible. Her stomach lurched and the young magician felt, terribly, terribly sick as she turned their words in her head over and over again.

Her mind felt foggy as she raced through the hallways of the Palace, out the gates, and through the streets of Vesuvia, and she was eventually escorted to the shop by a concerned passerby who had observed her walking in circles in the town square. She was still shaking when she made it inside the safety of the shop and relief flooded her veins when her aunt noticed the state she was in, excused herself from where she had been sitting with a client, and helped her upstairs.

“What’s wrong, Enzina?” Ginevra asked as she bundled her niece up in blankets in an attempt to warm her up—she had assumed that her trembling was due to the cold. “Did something happen?”

Cadenza had no idea how she was meant to answer a question like that, so she merely shook her head.

Ginevra stroked Cadenza’s cheek in a comforting manner, swiping her thumb under her eye. “ _Amore mio, stai piangendo._ ”

Confused, Cadenza touched her own fingers to her face and was surprised when they came back wet with tears. She stared blankly at her fingertips for a few moments before breaking out into sobs and throwing her arms around her aunt’s shoulders, hugging her tightly. “I don’t know, I don’t know….”

“That’s okay,” Ginevra hummed as she stroked Cadenza’s hair. “I’m here. I’m right here.”


	5. Which Witch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cadenza encounters a familiar stranger with white, fluffy hair and distinctive violet eyes.

It was nearly noon and Cadenza had moved aside some magical merchandise and stationed herself in the display window of the shop with her familiar, Ribbit, at her side. Apparently, the party she had seen in the process of being arranged at the Palace was for a Prakran princess, and she was supposedly going to be travelling down the street where Cadenza’s aunt’s shop was situated in her carriage—along with the rest of her royal procession, of course.

Eager to catch a glimpse of the Princess given that only nobility had been invited to the party, other Vesuvians crowded the sides of the street or leaned over the windowsills of their homes. Others had dangerously and foolishly climbed onto the rooftops of strangers, doing their best to keep their balance as they craned their necks to get a sense of how far down the street the carriage and the procession were at present.

Cadenza looked over at Ribbit and patted him on the head before offering him a dead fly that she held with a pair of tweezers. “We’ve got the right idea watching from here. No risk of falling out a window or getting trampled should people get over-excited.”

Ribbit croaked his approval and accepted the dead fly. _Very smart,_ he thought while smacking his frog jaws. _Less noisy, too._

“Mhm. I just hope that we’ll be able to see the Princess. I mean, who’s to say that the carriage’s curtains won’t be drawn?”

 _You could attend the party with your aunt. The invitation_ was _extended to you, as well._

“You know I can’t do that,” Cadenza whispered. “I’m not ready.”

In fact, Cadenza had not been to the Palace since Quaestor Valdemar had cornered her in the library. Concerned by her reaction to events that she had refused to disclose, her aunt had cited illness on her behalf to Count Lucio, who accepted with some hesitance that their sessions would have to continue at a later date. In the meantime, Cadenza did her best not to think of the encounter. Instead, she focused on studying the books and journals that her aunt provided her with, as well as looking after the shop.

“Enzina,” Ginevra shouted down into the shop from the top of the stairs in a somewhat sleepy tone of voice, “those kids that are always making _caciara_ in the back alley are camped out at the corner today.”

“They’re hardly children, _zia_ , they’re my age. Besides, what does it matter that they’re at the corner?”

“The Princess will be passing in front of our shop any moment now! And they’re being much too disruptive.”

Cadenza rolled her eyes but stood up nonetheless. “All right, I understand. I’ll see to it that they calm down, some.”

“Thank you, my dear. Be sure to tell them that I don’t mind them hanging around our shop any other day, but that today isn’t like any other day. I don’t know. It’s early and my head still hurts. I just don’t want our windows egged.”

“Yes, yes, don’t worry, I’ve got it.”

It was hardly early and the young people at the corner were hardly raising a racket, but Cadenza didn’t have it in her to argue with her aunt. She had done so much for her, had supported her more than anyone ever had that she was willing to bite back any and all retorts that came to mind, and just do what was asked of her. Armed only with her typical impassive expression, Cadenza opened the front door and stepped outside. She didn’t need to say a word.

The sight of the young magician rounding the corner with her wild black hair, the stern glint in her eyes, and the downturned corners of her mouth was enough to send the youths running. They recognized her as the niece of the owner of the magic shop and likely made the assumption that she was capable of cursing them in one way or another—something that they didn’t want to run the risk of learning for sure. By the time the metaphorical dust settled, there was only one person left at the corner.

A young person, hardly any older than Cadenza, dressed in ill-fitting but very colourful clothes was absolutely scrambling to gather their things. Cadenza’s first instinct was to hurry them along, as per her aunt’s instructions, but something about the stranger caused her to pause. They had set up a wooden crate and draped mismatched scraps of fabric over it like a tablecloth, and various odds and ends were placed on top of it as decoration to draw in potential onlookers. What drew Cadenza’s attention most of all, however, were the cards that the stranger was hastily trying to gather up and stuff in their bag. They hummed with a strange sort of energy… it was almost as if they had a life of their own.

“You don’t need to run,” Cadenza said in the kindest tone she could manage, but it still came across as more of a command than anything else.

The stranger looked up at the sound of her voice and Cadenza felt a memory tug at the back of her mind as their gazes met. The mischievous flash of violet eyes behind a hand-crafted fox mask, the fluffy white hair that reminded her a little bit of clouds, the curve of their lips as they smiled encouragingly at her, the feel of their warm, sure hands in hers as they led her in a lively dance, the magical potential she had sensed hidden just beneath their surface, and the way they had vanished into the crowd after she crossed a boundary without another word. It was them, Cadenza didn’t have a doubt in her mind about it. Standing across from her was the stranger from the Masquerade.

“You’re not going to try and curse me?” they asked in that distinctive, slightly airy voice, and Cadenza wasn’t sure whether or not they were serious.

“No, I’m not,” she answered honestly in an attempt to set the stranger at ease. “Is that what people actually think of me and my aunt? That we’re the sort to sling curses left and right? Because neither of us are actually capable of that.”

The stranger laughed, it was a bright musical sound. “I know, but thanks for the clarification. I’m sure you know by now that people have a tendency to… _talk_ in Vesuvia.”

Cadenza thought back to some of her aunt’s habitual clients—how they spent more time talking than listening to anything she said. “It seems to me that people have nothing better to do at times.”

“Right.” A few beats of silence elapsed and the stranger fidgeted nervously with their deck of cards. They glanced up at Cadenza, nervousness sparking in their violet eyes. “Listen, um, were you…?” They cleared their throat. “Did we dance together at the Masquerade? And are you the one who grabbed my face afterward?”

Heat crept into Cadenza’s cheeks. Was this what embarrassment felt like? “That depends. Are you the one who denied being a magician when I asked despite that obviously being a lie, and then ran off? If so, then yes, that was me.”

The stranger hesitated, seemingly making a mental calculation before carrying on with packing up their belongings. “Okay, great, now that that’s out of the way, I really should be leaving.”

“Wait.” The word slipped past Cadenza’s lips after a lot of mental wrestling and the stranger paused, much to her surprise. She had to make the most of the fact that she had their attention. “I’m sorry.”

They arched a white brow. “You’re what?”

“I’m sorry,” Cadenza repeated herself only to meet the stranger’s violet gaze to see that there was a mischievous glint in them, and she guessed that they were likely messing with her. She carried on nonetheless. “I crossed a line with you that night at the Masquerade and I’m sorry. The truth is that I’ll be even more sorry to see you go a second time. Or not see you, I suppose, given the disappearing act you pulled the last time.”

“Are you sure? I’ve been told that I cut quite the dashing figure when I’m walking away.” The stranger smirked briefly before growing serious when they saw that Cadenza’s expression didn’t even flicker in response to their barb. “Thank you, I accept your apology. To be honest, I probably wouldn’t have freaked out as much if we hadn’t been at the Palace when you did what you did.”

Before Cadenza could ask them what they meant by that, someone on a nearby rooftop shouted that the Princess’ carriage was rapidly approaching their stretch of the street. The stranger was so startled by this announcement that they dropped their deck of cards, their eyes widening they scattered across the cobblestones. They dropped to their knees immediately, hands reaching frantically to collect the fallen cards before they were run over by the Princess’ procession. There was a desperation in the stranger’s actions that was evident even to Cadenza, and she felt her heart squeeze in her chest a little.

Without pausing for another second to think about it, Cadenza gathered the skirt of her dress in one hand and lowered herself to the ground as well. She picked up the cards closest to her wordlessly, glancing at them just long enough to recognize them as Tarot cards before tucking them safely into one of her pockets. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the stranger giving her a sidelong glance, but they quickly returned to the task at hand and Cadenza pretty much paid the look no mind.

She had just pinched the last remaining card between her thumb and index finger when the stranger wrapped their arms around her shoulders and pulled her out of the street. Cadenza thrashed in their arms instinctively, a shout ready on her tongue for them to let go of her, but her protest died in her throat when she noticed the Princess’ carriage, the way it swerved slightly to avoid the place she had just been kneeling. The carriage curtains were, in fact, not drawn shut, and both Cadenza and the stranger made eye contact with the Prakran princess—who looked right back at them with mild concern in her ruby-red eyes.

All Cadenza and the stranger could do was stare blankly as the carriage passed. They were caught in a tangle of limbs, unable to move, almost unable to breathe as each member of the Princess’ procession cast a look that spelled out disappointment down on them where they sat on the cobblestones. Cadenza’s face burned with embarrassment—yes, she was sure that this was what embarrassment felt like. Her very first time seeing a princess and she was nearly run over in the dirty street. She had been so preoccupied with helping the stranger gather up their Tarot deck that she hadn’t even noticed how close the Princess had been. How humiliating.

“Are you okay?” the stranger asked when Cadenza started to disentangle herself from their arms.

“Could be better.” Although her reply was abrupt, she turned around and extended a hand to the stranger nonetheless. “Are you? I didn’t clip you with my elbow or anything, did I?”

“You almost boxed my ear, but I’m fine.” The stranger stood up with Cadenza’s help and ran a hand through their hair somewhat shyly. “Thanks for the help. My deck… it means a lot to me.”

“I could tell.” With that, Cadenza pulled the cards she had picked up out of her pocket and placed them squarely in the stranger’s palms. By the time she met their gaze, her embarrassment had faded and her cheeks no longer felt flushed. “You have a twig in your hair,” she remarked, reaching out to pluck it from their hair and tossing it aside.

The stranger cringed. “Do you think the Princess noticed?”

“Definitely.” A pause, and then, Cadenza cracked a slight smile. “No, I think she was more concerned about the fact that her carriage nearly ran me over.”

The stranger laughed again, and Cadenza determined that it was a pleasant sound. “I’m sorry that I yanked you out of the way like I did, but you really didn’t notice them coming at all.”

“I really didn’t. When I’m focused, everything else sort of fades away.”

“Ah, I see. I can be like that, too, sometimes.” The stranger paused and scanned Cadenza’s expression, focusing on her eyes. Finally, they took a step back. “Thanks again for lending me a hand, but I should probably get going.”

“Wait,” Cadenza said for the second time that day, and the stranger waited. “Cadenza, she/her.”

“What?”

“ _Cadenza_. That’s my name.” She pressed her lips together. “And since you know my name, it’s only fair that you tell me yours, too.”

“Asra Alnazar, he/him or they/them.” He smiled and moved closer to Cadenza, coming to stand almost as close to her as when they danced at the Masquerade. “Nice to officially meet you, I guess.”

The pair stared at each other for a few moments, quietly trying to figure out what to make of the person standing across from them. Cadenza was the one to break away first and ask: “Would you like to come inside for tea, Asra Alnazar?”

Asra seemed to hesitate for a moment and he glanced down a nearby alley, silently weighing his options. Eventually, he nodded and composed himself. “I’d love some tea, thank you.”

“Excellent.” Cadenza opened the door and made a welcoming gesture. “Come on in. As my aunt likes to say, tea drinkers are always welcome.”


	6. St. Jude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zia Nevra makes Asra an offer.

Asra trailed a couple of steps behind Cadenza as she led him up the stairs to her and her aunt’s living quarters. Although Cadenza had welcomed him inside, he was… _nervous_ ; unsure of whether he belonged in such a nice place with framed paintings of fruit, landscapes, and even cured meat hanging on the walls. His clothes could have definitely used a wash and his hair a comb-through, as evidenced by the twig that Cadenza had found in it not too long ago. He was suddenly extremely aware of his slight slouch, the way his footsteps sounded as he made his way upstairs.

The truth was that Asra had spent many days in the alley behind the shop, reading people’s fortunes at a much cheaper cost than what Cadenza’s aunt—the owner of the shop—charged. He had seen some well-dressed members of the nobility come and go, in fact, it seemed like a large amount of the clientele that frequented the shop were people he could to as members of Vesuvia’s “upper crust.” He knew that Cadenza’s aunt worked closely with Count Lucio and that he financed the shop a great deal. Despite never having set foot inside the shop, he felt like he knew a great deal about it. But now that he was _actually_ there? He was worried about breathing wrong.

That nervous energy that had been plaguing Asra faded away somewhat when he finally entered the kitchen. It was a bright, sunny space that was cluttered and disorganized, and just about the farthest cry from the fancy decor of the first floor. Unknown to Asra, the mess was something that was quite distressing to Cadenza, who spent approximately thirty minutes every morning and thirty minutes every evening tidying things up only for it all to be undone when her aunt inevitably swept through like a storm. A glance over her shoulder revealed that Asra had already comfortably settled down in a chair with rags draped over the back, acting as if the mess wasn’t even there.

“Is there any tea you’re partial to?” Cadenza asked as she set a pot of water on the stove and coaxed the stove salamander to spark a flame.

“Lapsang souchong,” Asra replied without any hesitation. “It’s actually my favourite drink.”

“All right, I’ll see if I can track down that blend.”

Given that one of Cadenza’s aunt’s specialties was tasseography, the kitchen cabinets were practically overflowing with containers of loose leaf tea. Unfortunately, there was no distinguishable organizational strategy, which often resulted in Cadenza grabbing the first container whose label sparked her interest since she couldn’t be arsed to take the time to go through everything and find what she was actually looking for. This had slipped her mind, of course, and she was now stuck rifling through the cabinets for lapsang souchong as she knew that it would be rude to not even attempt a search.

“Is everything all right?” Asra asked after a few minutes had elapsed, during which he remained seated and feeling more than a little bit uncomfortable that Cadenza appeared to be going through so much trouble for him.

“Yes, I’m just having a bit of a difficult time tracking down the tea you requested.”

“Oh, well, the water’s boiled and if it’s really too much trouble, why don’t you choose the blend instead? Something you have right on hand, maybe.”

Cadenza glanced over at the cutting board, which still had lemon and ginger root sitting on it that her aunt hadn’t put away. The knife and grater she had used were still sitting on the counter as well. “How do you feel about lemon and ginger tea?”

“I feel good about it—it’s a very cleansing tea.”

With a brisk nod, Cadenza carried on about the business of preparing the tea. Back in Venterre, she hadn’t been in the habit of brewing it given that tea wasn’t a habitual beverage, but in Vesuvia, it seemed like everyone loved it. Her aunt found that it helped with with her migraines (both the natural ones and the alcohol-induced ones), so Cadenza had incorporated it into her routine, one that she went about in complete silence. It was a precise and neat process, and she found great comfort in it. She was pleased that Asra didn’t try to interrupt the silence with talking and when she was done, she handed him the teacup, the tips of his fingers brushing against Cadenza’s as it exchanged hands.

“Thank you,” Asra said and took the first sip, muffling a surprised cough. “Wow, that’s, _ahem_ , a stronger brew than I’m used to.”

“I added some mint.” Cadenza took a long drink from her own teacup, the strong flavour didn’t even make her flinch. Probably because it didn’t register as particularly strong on her own tongue. “Sorry, I probably should have warned you that my tastes are particular.”

“Oh, no, don’t worry about it—it’s great.” Asra took another sip of tea and choked it down. “I love it.”

“Who loves what?” Ginevra’s rich voice boomed through the kitchen and Cadenza turned to see her aunt draped against the doorframe. The magician’s jade-green gaze immediately landed on Asra. “Hello, there. Who might you be?”

“Asra Alnazar.” He set down his teacup and walked over to where Ginevra stood, extending a hand for her to shake. He hoped that she couldn’t see him trembling. “Nice to meet you.”

“Ginevra.” She squeezed Asra’s hand, but didn’t shake it, and Cadenza noted a discerning glint in her aunt’s eyes. “My, you’re certainly an interesting one. A magician? Hmm, no, not quite… but getting there. You certainly have the potential. Tell me, what kind of talents do you have?”

“Um, well, you see… I….” Asra glanced at Cadenza, and she raised an eyebrow at him, urging him with her eyes to speak up. After all, she would be remiss if she didn’t admit that she was somewhat curious, too. “I do Tarot readings with a deck I put together myself.”

“Ah, of course, I recognize you.” Ginevra nodded to herself and let go of Asra’s hand. She wandered breezily into the kitchen, plucked Cadenza’s cup of tea from her fingers, and drank deeply from it. “You’re the one who likes to set up shop in the alley behind my shop and pinch the clients who think I ask for too much money for what I do.”

Asra felt his cheeks heat and he glanced at his feet. “Sorry. I promise it isn’t personal.”

“No, no, I know. It’s a clever business strategy. I’m sure you don’t undercharge for your services, but I do get the feeling that you’re selling yourself short of your true potential.” Ginevra sat down at the kitchen table and gestured for Asra to take the seat across from her. “Show me what you’re capable of.”

For a moment, Asra considered thanking Cadenza for the tea and making a break for the door. He was already nervous, but the thought of sitting across one of the most well-known and respected magicians in all of Vesuvia and attempting to “show off,” for lack of a better word, made his stomach lurch. The lemon and ginger tea did nothing to calm him, either. Then again, he recognized that this was an opportunity like no other and he wasn’t foolish enough to walk away from it. So, he walked back over to the table, took a seat, and pulled his Tarot deck from his pocket.

After glancing briefly in Cadenza’s direction, just long enough to see that she was watching him intently, Asra started to shuffle the deck. The cars were familiar in his hands and they glided across each other easily as he shuffled. When he was done, he met Ginevra’s gaze, took in her inscrutable expression, and slowly drew five cards from the deck; placing them face down on the table. His heart hammered in his chest, loudly enough that he was sure everyone could hear it, and he waited a few seconds to give his hands a chance to stop trembling before flipping them over one by one.

The Devil. Death: Reversed. The Tower: Reversed. Justice: Reversed. Temperance: Reversed.

Ginevra looked down at the cards, her expression still betraying nothing, before finally nodding thoughtfully to herself. The cards that Asra had drawn seemed to mean something to her, but Cadenza was at a loss. Admittedly, she didn’t know a lot about Tarot, but she knew enough to recognize that the array Asra had laid out on the table was a frightening one. Cadenza looked to her aunt for guidance, for some sort of hint as to how it was meant to be interpreted, but the only thing she could pick up on was that she was impressed with Asra.

“How much money are you making doing tarot readings in alleyways? Whatever it is, you’ll make more working at my shop. Not to mention that you can receive instruction that you wouldn’t otherwise be able receive to nurture your gifts, free of charge.”

Asra leaned back in his seat, he fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. He glanced over at Cadenza and then back at Ginevra. There was something holding him back. “I don’t know….”

“I’ll throw in room and board, too. I’m sure there’s another sleeping mat in a closet somewhere, you can share the spare room with my dear Enzina.”

Cadenza was tempted to speak up, then, but she managed to keep quiet. She knew better than try to step into a conversation when her aunt was in the middle of a negotiation.

“I’ll get a cut of some of the profits you bring in with your readings, of course, this isn’t a charity. At the end of the day, however, you’ll still be making good money, learning, and sleeping soundly within the safety of these walls at night.”

Asra looked interested, he was sitting up a little straighter, but still, he hesitated. “What you’re offering is very generous.”

Without saying anything, Ginevra drew a card from Asra’s deck and handed it to him. It was The Hermit. “You can save the money you make, save it for something you really need.”

This seemed to mean something to Asra and Cadenza saw the exact moment in which he made his decision. With The Hermit card pressed to his chest, he nodded. “Okay, I’m in.”


	7. Bird Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cadenza gives Asra the lay of the land and the two magicians get to know each other a little better.

It had been several hours since Asra and Zia Nevra had come to their agreement, and Cadenza found herself alone in the shop. Or at least, she was mostly alone. Ribbit was sitting in her lap, croaking at her to dim the lamp every time she cranked up at the flame, and her aunt’s familiar, Contessina, had laid claim to her shoulder. Currently, Cadenza was waiting on Asra to return from wherever it was that he had been living with his belongings. Zia Nevra, of course, had left for the party taking place at the Palace a while ago and had reminded her as sternly as she could to wait up for her roommate.

_“I wouldn’t want you to accidentally lock him out on the very first night.”_

_“I’ll sit downstairs facing the door if that makes you feel better.”_

_“It does. Now, this party is probably going to be an all-night sort of deal, so I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Help Asra get settled in when he gets here, will you?”_

Zia Nevra hadn’t even given Cadenza a chance to answer before she was out the door, and so, the young magician settled on the couch with a defeated sigh. She hoped that Asra wouldn’t take much longer, but that hope had worn very thin when she noticed that another hour had gone by since her conversation with her aunt and he had not yet knocked on the door. Quietly, she wondered whether Asra had changed his mind about the whole situation and simply taken off into the night, never to be seen by her nor her aunt ever again. She prayed that that wasn’t the case.

After another thirty minutes of sitting patiently on the couch (along with some slightly less patient pacing back and forth in front of it interspersed in there), a quiet knock sounded from the door and Cadenza practically sprang to her feet. Neither Ribbit nor Contessina were pleased by the jostling that came with the movement, but they withheld their complaints for the time being. Cadenza made her way to the door swiftly, and opened it before Asra could knock on it a second time. He was slightly startled by how quickly she had appeared in the doorway and he dropped his still-hovering fist with an awkward cough.

“Sorry I took so long, it was pretty dark coming back,” he explained, cognizant of how long it had taken him to return. He peered over Cadenza’s shoulder and glimpsed a single oil lamp burning low in the shop. “You weren’t… waiting for me the whole time, were you?”

“I was—my aunt asked me to do exactly that.” Cadenza looked Asra up and down. All he had brought back with him was a crate that looked to be full of hastily-packed clothes, a pillow, and a fur that he had draped over his shoulders. “Is there anything else you need to go collect tomorrow morning?”

Asra shuffled his feet. “No, um, this is it.”

Cadenza shrugged and stepped aside. “All right. Come on in, then, let’s get you settled.” For the second time that day, she led Asra up the stairs to the living quarters. “You’ve already seen the kitchen,” she pointed out when they reached the landing. “Our room is at the end of the hall, do you want to put away your belongings or do you want the tour first?”

“I’m good.” Asra shifted his grip slightly on his crate. “Tour first, please.”

“Very well, the room beside the kitchen is myaunt’s and it’s off limits. All you really need to know about it is that it’s the biggest room out of all of them and that the walls are fairly thin, so you may hear her snore sometimes.”

“Noted,” Asra said, and he really did. He was doing his best to make a mental list as Cadenza spoke in order to make his transition into living and working there as smooth as possible. “Off limits. Thin walls.”

Cadenza continued down the hall and gestured to their left. “Here we have the study.” She opened the door and stepped inside, waving her hand at Asra to let him know that it was okay for him to follow. Books were neatly arranged on shelves and in stacks on the floor, and a large wooden desk occupied much of the remaining space. “I’ve been mainly using this space to study when I’m not working. If you ask my aunt for specific books, I’m sure that she’ll track them down for you. Otherwise, you’re welcome to read any of the ones in here.”

“So, just to make sure, nothing’s off limits in the study?”

“Um, actually.” Cadenza paused, glancing quickly in the direction of a black chest that had been shoved into a corner. Her heartbeat sped up. “Anything that’s been stored in a chest that you don’t have the key for is also off limits.”

“That sounds reasonable. Okay, that’s also been noted.”

“Good. Next up we have the bathroom.” The floor gave way to tiles beneath their feet when Cadenza opened the door to the room next to the study. “Nothing too exciting here. If you take a hot bath and want to use the sink afterward to brush your teeth or something, though, you may need to wait a few minutes because the water that comes out of the faucet will be boiling hot at first. The water is also very cold in the middle of the night, perfect if you need a refreshing drink.”

“Cool, cool. Question: am I allowed to use your hair products?” Asra asked in a light, teasing tone only to find that Cadenza took him completely seriously.

“Your hair is similar enough to mine in terms of how it curls. Go ahead. My aunt says I’m not appreciative enough of the products she buys for me, she’ll probably be pleased if you use them.”

“Oh. Not the answer I was expecting, but, great. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Cadenza tugged Asra away from the bathroom and to the opposite side of the hallway. “And… we’ve finally made it to the spare room. Also known as the room that we’ll be sharing from this point onward.”

The raven-haired magician breezed into the room and immediately sat down on the sleeping mat laid out by the eastern wall. She twisted the knob of the oil lamp on the floor by her makeshift bed and the flame roared brightly back into life; illuminating the neat, sparsely-furnished space. Asra was still standing in the doorway, looking doubtful all of a sudden as he shifted his crate from under one arm to the other, squishing his pillow against his side in the process.

“Your aunt wasn’t kidding when she said ‘sleeping mat,’ huh,” he joked in an attempt to ease the tension.

“It’s more comfortable than it looks. I wasn’t sure whether you needed a blanket and a pillow, so I took the liberty of setting them up for you. I suppose you’ll be even more comfortable, considering.” Cadenza nodded at the pillow and fur that Asra had brought with him. “Come in. Take a look around. You can start putting your things away, or you can leave that to tomorrow. It’s up to you.”

Cadenza’s nonchalance set Asra at ease. Somewhat. He took a hesitant step into the room. When nothing happened, he let out a soft breath. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me, you live here, too, now. This space is as much yours as it is mine.”

Nodding slowly to himself, Asra ventured onward. The first thing he did was set his crate of belongings down at the foot of the sleeping mat. Then, he carefully arranged the fur and pillow that he had brought with him on top of what Cadenza had laid out for him ahead of time. It was a thoughtful gesture, that was for sure, bit it made him oddly uncomfortable. He was so new to the arrangement and he was terrified of being a burden on Ginevra or Cadenza, who were both clearly accustomed to having things a certain way.

Swallowing his nerves, Asra plucked two wooden figurines from his crate and wandered over to the window on shaky legs. He ran his thumbs across the familiar patterns that had been carved into the wood with an abundance of care in an attempt to calm himself even further. He gazed out into the darkness for a couple of beats only to be met with his own reflection and a picture of the room behind him thanks to the light cast by the oil lamp. Cadenza was looking at him and he glanced down at the windowsill when he met her gaze, but it was too late, she had risen to her feet and was making her way over.

“What have you got there?” she asked, peering over his shoulder at the two figurines that he had set down: a bear and a fox.

“Oh, um, my friend made them. The fox was a gift for me and the bear was something that I suggested he carve for himself.”

“The bear. That’s also the how you depicted The Hermit in your Tarot deck,” Cadenza remarked and she recalled how tightly Asra had clutched that particular card to his chest earlier.

“Yeah…,” Asra trailed off, quietly yet frantically searching for something else that they could talk about. Literally anything. His gaze landed on a deck of cards on the windowsill. He reached for them. “What are these?”

Before Asra’s fingers could close around the edges of the cards, Cadenza had plucked them from their resting place and was already backing away to sit down on the floor once again. She gestured for Asra to sit across from her. “A gift from my aunt,” she explained. “I had an accident a while ago—you’ve probably noticed that I’m a little bit… out of touch with my emotions. These are supposed to help with that aspect of my recovery.”

Asra sat down on the floor as per Cadenza’s directions and he folded his legs beneath him as comfortably as he could. He looked on with curiosity as Cadenza laid the cards out between them, flipping them over one by one to reveal the names of different emotions written in a bold script across violet card stock. Happy, sad, angry, nervous, afraid… and so on. Just looking at the cards, Asra wasn’t too certain of what sort of assistance they provided Cadenza with, exactly. Rather than asking, however, he waited for her to explain on her own accord.

“When I’m feeling a certain way,” Cadenza continued with her explanation after a few moments of silence, “it’s hard for me to put it into words and even recognize my own body’s signals. These cards are enchanted such that the text lights up when I associate the correct word with the emotion that I’m currently feeling.”

“That’s interesting. And very clever.” Asra pressed his lips together, glancing between the cards and Cadenza. “Do they work well enough?”

“Why don’t you ask me a question and find out?”

“O-Okay.” Asra cleared his throat. He did have a burning question on his mind and he figured that this was as good a time as any to air it. “How do you feel about this new arrangement… with me? Your aunt didn’t really consult you, and I was just wondering…. Yeah. I was just wondering.”

Wordlessly, Cadenza extended a hand over the cards, her fingers wiggling in a way that Asra could only perceive as ominous as she considered her options. After apparently careful consideration, she finally lowered her hand and tapped the card that read “Neutral” with the tip of her index finger. The text immediately lit up and glowed with a golden light that was reflected in both their eyes. It only faded when Cadenza pulled her hand away. She met Asra’s gaze evenly, her expression betraying no emotion at all.

“I don’t know you all that well yet—I’m still forming an opinion,” she said matter-of-factly. “I can let you know when I feel more definitively about you, if you’d like.”

A nervous laugh escaped Asra. “That’s not necessary.”

“If you say so.” Cadenza narrowed her eyes and tilted her head to the side ever so slightly. “How do _you_ feel about this new arrangement?”

At first, Asra wasn’t sure whether or not Cadenza was actually serious in asking him that, but when she neither looked away nor smiled, he knew that she meant it. He clenched his hands into fists in an attempt to hide the fact that they were trembling and cautiously reached out to rap the correct card with his knuckles. The lettering that spelled out “Anxious” glowed gold. When he removed his hand and the light faded, he realized that Cadenza was still looking at him intently and heat rushed to his cheeks.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, glancing away.

“Hm? No. I just couldn’t tell that you had been feeling anxious.” Cadenza nudged the card he had just touched toward him. “Flip it over, there’s advice on the back.”

Asra picked up the card and flipped it over. Surely enough, a phrase materialized in a shimmering golden script. “‘Drink tea, eat soup, and rejoice!’” He set the card down. “Is this a joke?”

Cadenza’s lips quirked up at the corners. “No, more like a very unfortunate misprint. It appears on the back of every single card when you flip it over. You’ll imagine my surprise when I flipped over the ‘Sad’ card and received that advice.” She gathered the cards up and rose to set them back on the windowsill. “Speaking of soup, are you hungry?”

As if on cue, Asra’s stomach growled. “I could definitely eat.”

“I made dinner for myself earlier, but I made sure to leave some over in case you arrived without having eaten dinner.” Cadenza paused in the doorway. “It will probably be cold. Would you like it heated up? It’s lamb stew.”

“No, it’s okay. Cold stew is fine.”

“All right, I’ll be right back.”

The moment Cadenza left the room, Asra slouched forward and let out a deep breath. He scrubbed his hands over his face; getting a sense of just how flushed he was based off of how warm his skin felt against his palms. He felt like he was just barely holding it together… nervous in a way that he couldn’t name. He hadn’t _truly_ been around people in a while, not with this kind of proximity, and he wasn’t quite sure of what to make of everything. He picked at his cuticles absently as he pondered how he had come across to Cadenza and Ginevra, so far.

_Dinner?_

The question echoed in Asra’s mind and he turned his head just in time to see his familiar, Faust, pop her scaly head out from the collar of his shirt. “You’ve already had your dinner.”

_But lamb!_

“It’s been cooked with vegetables and broth, you wouldn’t like it.”

“Is that a snake I see poking out of your shirt?”

Cadenza had been so quiet on her feet that Asra hadn’t noticed that she had returned with a bowl of stew in hand until she spoke. “Yes?” he answered tentatively and Faust slithered out of his shirt to curl around his arm. “This is Faust. She’s my familiar. I’m sorry, I should have said something earlier, but I was worried about what the response to her might have been.”

“No need to worry, reptiles and amphibians are very welcome here.” Cadenza made her way over to Asra and placed the bowl of stew in his hands before moving to sit on her sleeping mat. “My own familiar, Ribbit, is a frog. My aunt’s familiar, Contessina, is a green lizard. The stove salamander is, well, a salamander. Your Faust looks very polite.”

 _Very polite!_ Faust agreed loudly and Cadenza, of course, gave no indication of having heard her.

“So… your aunt won’t freak out when she meets Faust?”

“On the contrary, she’s quite fond of snakes. She would probably have one of her own is Contessina wasn’t so territorial when it comes to her attention.” Cadenza shifted to lie on her back, she glanced in Asra’s direction. “Let me know what you think of the stew.”

Conscious of her gaze following his every move, Asra raised the spoon to his lips. He sipped the broth tentatively, not wanting to make the same error that he had made earlier when he took a big gulp of the tea that Cadenza had brewed. He was pleasantly surprised this time around to find that the taste was not overwhelming, but rather spicy and rich. The flavours were still strong, but they were pleasant and the lamb was extremely tender, which told him that everything had simmered together in the pot for a while. He couldn’t hide his smile and he didn’t want to.

“I haven’t had lamb in such a long time.” He spooned more stew into his mouth, savouring the way the lamb fell apart and washed additional flavour across his tongue. “I can still remember the lamb stew that my mom used to make. She always used to tell me that when I was old enough to cook unsupervised, she would tell me her secret blend of spices.”

Asra was surprised that he had brought up his mother of his own volition and he pressed his lips together, feeling them slide against each other thanks to the broth that coated them. His heart ached in his chest, the hurt suddenly just as fresh as the day when neither she nor his father returned home. He felt a lump forming in his throat and he knew that he would cry if he fixated on the memory. He lifted his gaze from the bowl of stew and looked at Cadenza, hoping that she couldn’t see that his eyes were watery.

“Is there a childhood dish that you miss?” he asked, silently cursing himself mere moments for his foolishness in clinging to that topic.

Cadenza was quiet for a couple of beats, her dark eyes scouring Asra’s expression. Just when he was starting to think that she wouldn’t answer, she did. “My mom used to make fried zucchini blossoms. They had a delicate sort of sweetness to them once you bit through to the blossom.” She sighed. A wistful sound. “If I was offered some tomorrow, though, I don’t know that I would eat them. My palate doesn’t exactly register subtlety anymore.”

“Is that related to your…?”

“To my accident? Yes.”

Asra cursed himself mentally. “I’m sorry,” he said, hoping to backtrack on the conversation.

“Don’t apologize, it’s my own fault.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“Well, you wouldn’t know, would you?” Cadenza fired back, taking on a snappish tone—all notes of softness were gone from it. “You don’t know me, Asra.”

“I’m sorry.”

Cadenza exhaled sharply through her nose. “I’m feeling tired, I think I’m going to go to sleep. Enjoy the stew. Turn out the light when you’re ready to go to sleep, as well.”

With that, she rolled onto her side so that she was facing away from Asra, and pulled her blanket over her head. Asra’s face, in the meantime, burned with embarrassment. He wasn’t sure why his words had triggered that kind of response from Cadenza, but he was profoundly regretful. He wanted to apologize, but he didn’t know how or for what, and he definitely didn’t want to accidentally make things worse. Sighing softly, he looked down at the bowl of stew and realized that he had lost his appetite.


	8. Hurricane Drunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zia Nevra relays the events of the previous night’s party that had been held in honour of Princess Nadia Satrinava’s arrival in Vesuvia and makes light of a problem she inadvertently contributed to for Cadenza.

It was well past noon by the time Ginevra emerged from her room, yawning and stretching, and still dressed in her emerald-green robe. She shuffled down the hallway in her slippers, poking her head into the kitchen only to find it empty. Lunch had long since been eaten and afternoon tea had already been brewed—the kettle was cold to the touch. She scratched her head in confusion. Typically, Cadenza would have left _something_ for her. A thought suddenly occurred to Ginevra. Where _was_ Cadenza? And where was the unusual young magician she had invited into her home yesterday? His name escaped her at the moment.

Still moving at a shuffling pace with her eyes only half-open, Ginevra made her way downstairs and into the shop just in time to see her niece turning the sign in the window so that it read “Open” to passersby. The youth with the white hair- Asra Alnazar, that was his name! Asra, on the other hand, was standing behind the glass counter, in the middle of nervously shuffling his deck of cards when he noticed a slightly wild-haired Ginevra standing at the bottom of the stairs with a start.

“Good morning, er, afternoon, Miss Ginevra,” he said, standing up a little straighter, almost at attention.

Ginevra waved a hand dismissively. “You can call me Ginevra, _caro_. Or Nevra, like my niece does, whatever you’re more comfortable with.”

“ _Buongiorno, zia_.” Cadenza moved to lean casually against the counter, keeping her distance from Asra, however. “What time did you come home last night?”

“Hmm.” Ginevra tapped her chin. “I think I left the Palace at around three in the morning? But I’m fairly certain that I found my bed at a little bit past four. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“I didn’t hear anything.” Cadenza glanced over her shoulder at Asra. “What about you?”

“I heard some stumbling around in the hallway at some point, but that’s pretty much it.” Asra made sure to address Ginevra, specifically, when he next spoke. “You didn’t disturb my sleep at all, though.”

“Good, good, I would hate for you to feel ill-rested on your first day on the job. Speaking of which, how did you find the morning shift?”

Asra tapped his Tarot deck against the counter. “I saw a few people. I gave them simple three card readings, nothing fancy.”

“Oh, well, feel free to be fancy—that’s what brings in the money. Now that I think of it, we ought to discuss what the proper charge for your services should be. Although before we get to talking about business, I’m sure that you two are _dying_ to know about last night’s party.” Ginevra moved to sit on the couch, waving Cadenza and Asra over to sit in the armchairs. “I’m guessing that you’ve probably picked up on some of the gossip, already.”

Asra pressed his lips together. He hadn’t been planning on saying anything, but Cadenza readily accepted the invitation extended by her aunt. “All day, people have been talking about how the party turned into a wedding. What on earth happened?”

“Well, Enzina, you’ll find this believable since you know Lucio, but- Asra are you all right?” Ginevra noted that Asra was looking a little pale and that he was wringing his hands in his lap. “You don’t look… _well_.”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m fine. Just… a little nervous because it’s my first day on the job here and all. And a client could walk in at any moment.”

“Take a load off, dear, no need to be so tense. If a client comes in looking for you, I won’t hold you captive, I promise.” Asra nodded and did his best to relax in his armchair while Ginevra proceeded with her story. “Full disclosure, we were all fairly… inebriated, and at some point, I remember Lucio loudly announcing that he hadn’t proposed to anyone in a while. Next thing anyone knew, he was dropping onto one knee at Nadia Satrinava’s feet—she’s the visiting Prakran princess, in case that wasn’t clear.”

Cadenza leaned forward in her seat, propping her chin up on her knuckles. “And the Princess said ‘yes’?” she asked, incredulous. She wondered how anyone could possibly think that marrying the Count was a good idea.

“Yes, she did. When accepting his proposal she muttered something about how he cut a nice figure in his suit and that marrying him would give her a reason to indefinitely delay her return to Prakra.”

Asra raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

“I know.” Ginevra reached across the gap and patted Asra’s knee. “And I was _there_. But the new couple seemed happy enough last night, so I’m going to give them the benefit of the doubt.” She paused. “Then again, they were quite drunk. We all were.”

“What was the party like before you were all, uh, lost to it?” Asra asked cautiously.

“Before we were all completely drunk, you mean? It was nice. Very nice. The Princess was an extraordinary conversational partner. I got the sense that she’s quite brilliant, she’s quick-witted and her intelligence really came through when we discussed my role as Court Magician.” Ginevra turned her gaze onto her niece. “I’m certain that you would have liked her, Enzina, or at the very least been impressed by her.”

“Speaking to her would have required me to go to the Palace.” Cadenza folded her arms and slouched in her armchair. “I’m not ready for that.”

Ginevra made a face, suddenly reminded of something. “You may have to… be ready… a bit sooner, my dear.”

Cadenza stiffened in her seat and Asra looked wildly uncomfortable, casting his gaze about in search of an excuse to leave. “What do you mean?” the raven-haired magician asked just as Asra concluded that there was nowhere for him to go.

“The Princess, erm, _Countess_ now, expressed concern when Lucio complained about how long you had been sick. She went so far as to say that she could send a message to her sister, who is apparently a doctor, and invite them to Vesuvia to check on you.” Ginevra threw her head back and let out a cackle despite herself. “Can you imagine? What were the chances?”

Cadenza was less interested in the coincidence and more interested in this particular turn of events that disrupted her plans to avoid, avoid, _avoid_ the Palace and everyone in it. “ _Zia_ , what did _you_ say?”

“I said that you were feeling better and that you would probably be ready to resume your duties tomorrow. Meaning, today.”

That was too much for Cadenza to bear. She stood up abruptly, the back legs of the armchair scuttling off the carpet to screech across the wooden floorboards. “That messes everything up.”

“Enzina, you need to go back eventually.” Ginevra stood as well. “Talk to me, what’s wrong? I can’t help unless you let me know what’s troubling you so much?”

“I don’t want to talk about it! I don’t know how to talk about it, because… because… because I don’t like the way that talking or even thinking about it makes me feel!” Cadenza shouted. “You know what? If Count Lucio wants me back at the Palace so badly, I’ll go!”

“Do you want to take out your cards and try to figure out how you’re-”

“ _No!_ ” Cadenza accentuated her point by removing her cards from her pocket and throwing them down onto the coffee table. A _smack_ resounded through the shop when they made contact with the wooden surface. “Are they expecting me at the Palace now, hm, _zia_? Right this very moment?”

“Probably not right this very moment, no, but-”

“Ah, well, they’re probably expecting me soon, then.” Cadenza turned on her heel and started for the door. “I should probably start walking—I would hate to make the Count wait any longer than he already has.”

“Enzina- _Cadenza!_ Cadenza, you’re clearly angry and frustrated right now-”

“I will see you both later. Goodbye.”

With that, Cadenza slammed the door behind her, causing the display window to rattle in its frame in the process. Asra’s shoulders shot up to his ears and he gripped his chair’s armrests whereas Ginevra just stood completely still, staring after Cadenza until she disappeared from sight down the street. The magician raised her fingers to her lips, drumming them and staining them with the lipstick she had applied as soon as she woke up in the process. Ginevra was deeply worried about her niece, but she knew that she couldn’t push her to open up. It was up to Cadenza to share what had been disturbing her, what had frightened and upset her so badly that she returned to the shop crying that one day.

“Um,” Asra said, and Ginevra was reminded of his presence, “is she all right?”

Ginevra sat down in the chair that Cadenza had previously occupied. “She’s going through some things right now.”

“I heard about the accident.”

“You have?” Ginevra raised an eyebrow.

“I mean, I don’t have the details, but she mentioned it to me.” Asra was wringing his hands again. “I just… I want to make sure. Am I, uh, wanted here? Am I too much to handle when Cadenza is ‘going through some things’?”

“Oh.” Ginevra reached out to squeeze his shoulder gently. “I _do_ want you here and I’m sure that Cadenza does as well. She’ll warm up to you and hopefully she’ll also cool down some while she works through things.”

“O-Okay.”

“Asra, look at me, please,” Ginevra urged and Asra glanced up from his hands, meeting her jade-green gaze. “You are wanted here, I will never leave you in the cold on a whim. All right? I know it probably seems like I have my plate pretty full, but… if you _do_ ever want to talk, I am here for you as well.”

Asra swallowed hard, feeling a surge of emotions. “Thank you.” He turned his head to the side and wiped his eyes quickly before standing up. “I’m going to go put on some tea. Clients seem to expect it when they come in, I’ve found. Do you want some?”

Ginevra smiled warmly at the young magician although worry about Cadenza still tugged at the back of her mind. “I could very much use a cup right about now.”


	9. Caught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cadenza finally returns to the Palace and almost immediately finds herself snared in a trap of Quaestor Valdemar’s creation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning(s): mentions of traumatic memories and death.

By the time Cadenza made it to the Palace gates, her knees and ankles were sore from having stomped up the steps. They were sore from having stomped through the streets of Vesuvia even before she reached the steps, actually. If she had time to spare, she would have sat down to massage them, but she was in a hurry. _And_ trying to make a point. To her aunt… who wasn’t even there. Cadenza’s shoulders sagged and she dropped her head briefly before tensing right back up again. She was heading into the metaphorical belly of the beast now and it was not the time to show weakness.

The Palace guards straightened at their posts when they noticed the magician approaching. “Miss Cadenza, you’re-”

“Here after an unexpected leave of absence, yes. I was… unwell. Apologies if I’m late.” Cadenza removed her velvet gloves from her pockets and tugged them on. “ _Well_. No need to announce me or leave your post, I know my way around at this point.”

The guards exchanged nervous glances. “Are you sure?”

“Very.” Cadenza forced a smile. It felt like a grimace. “Good day to you both.”

Fortunately, the guards put up no fight and merely stepped aside; holding the gate open for a now stone-faced Cadenza who breezed past them without another word. Once the guards were sufficiently behind her, she made a noise of frustration and shook her hands at her sides. Every interaction grated her nerves—she had come close to snapping at her favourite tea vendor when she had passed them in the street on her way to the Palace… how in the world was she going to be able to put up with Count Lucio today?

The young magician contemplated that question as she made her way through hallways that were now familiar to her, her feet carrying her to the bright, sunny room in which her animantic sessions with Count Lucio always took place all the while her head was lost in dark, stormy clouds. Her fingers twitched restlessly and oh how Cadenza wished she had had the forethought to storm upstairs, lock herself in the room she now shared with Asra, and practiced the violin rather than stomping out in a misguided attempt to make a foolish point that eluded even her in the moment.

Before Cadenza knew it, she was standing outside the Count’s solarium and the dread finally hit her with all of its force. She noisily sucked in a breath in an attempt to force air back into her lungs after it felt as if all of it had been squeezed out of them. She then exhaled slowly, letting the air hiss between her teeth as she did. With one hand curled into a trembling fist at her side, she reached out with the other and finally opened the door.

Bright light that was also reflected off the mirrors and refracted through the crystal chandelier that hung from the ceiling immediately invaded Cadenza’s vision; temporarily blinding her. The young magician took a few tentative steps forward, toward the couch that she was sure Count Lucio would be waiting for her on, the plush carpet muffling her footsteps as she did. It felt like her first day all over again. Except this time, she wasn’t sure that she would be able to hold her tongue.

“I’m told that you’ve been expecting me,” Cadenza said, blinking rapidly in an attempt to focus her vision once more. She had to fight to keep her tone even and calm as she carried on. “My illness has finally cleared up, I apologize for inconvenience that it caused you.”

“I am very pleased to hear that you’re doing better, Enzina. I was quite worried about you, there.”

The voice came from behind Cadenza—it wasn’t Count Lucio’s. She rubbed her eyes frantically. Count Lucio wasn’t lounging on the couch, drinking wine like he typically did while he waited for her to show up, either. The dread that she had been feeling was rapidly swallowed up by a yawning void into which she just wanted to scream. Doing her best to hide the slight tremble in her legs, Cadenza turned around slowly to face Quaestor Valdemar—who now stood between her and the door.

“Although I _was_ surprised to hear that you had taken ill so soon after our meeting. You appeared in good health to me,” Valdemar remarked, their eyes narrowing knowingly. “Why don’t you have a seat? We have a lot to discuss.”

“ _Cadenza_ ,” the magician hissed through gritted teeth.

“What was that?”

“You keep calling me ‘Enzina.’ That is not a name for you to use.” Her tone was firmer than usual in order to hide the slight tremble in her voice. “My name is Cadenza. If you’re so insistent on speaking with me, that is how you will address me.”

“Well, then, _Cadenza_ … why don’t you have a seat?”

In a few strides, Quaestor Valdemar stood directly in front of her. They rested a hand on her shoulder, and Cadenza felt a chill emanate from them even through their gloves and her clothes. She shrugged them off, opting to do what she was told. She wasn’t quite sure what the Quaestor was capable of, but something told her that she shouldn’t care to find out. Her limbs felt like they were made of wood, resistant to the silent commands that she sent them, and she practically staggered to the couch, plopping down onto the cushions without ceremony. Quaestor Valdemar settled down right next to her.

“Were you really ill, Cadenza? Or was that a lie that your aunt told on your behalf? Did I frighten you that badly?”

Cadenza looked pointedly the other way. “What does that matter if I’m here now?”

“Snippy today, eh? No matter. You’re right. There’s no need to rehash the past.” Valdemar cracked their knuckles. _Loudly_. Cadenza bristled and she clenched her fists tighter. “I’ve been thinking… about your _talents_ , the extent of them.”

“When will you leave me alone?”

“When you tell me what I want to know. Among other things.”

“What do you want to know? Be direct or else I’m leaving,” Cadenza snapped even though it was an empty threat. “I’ve had just about enough of you.”

Valdemar laughed. It was a cold, hollow sound. “Pontifex Vulgora would admire you for how quickly your blood comes to a boil, but I highly doubt that you’re going to be doing any walking away from me from this point onward. After all, how do you think your aunt or her shop would fare if word got out that she was housing a necromancer? It’s my understanding yours is an especially disdained magical specialty.”

The Quaestor had struck a chord. A painful one, and Cadenza swallowed what felt like her heart in her throat. “Go ahead, ask your questions.”

“I hate to resort to threats, but they do make people all the more agreeable.” Valdemar smiled and patted Cadenza’s knee. “Walk me through your process. How exactly do you go about resurrecting people?”

“By now you know that I haven’t resurrected anyone, Quaestor. You said it yourself, I haven’t been bringing people back as themselves, I’ve been creating demons.”

“So, tell me what you did when you still believed that you were bringing people back from the dead or the brink of death. How did you do what you did?”

Cadenza pressed her lips together before catching the bottom one between her teeth. She inadvertently bit into it hard enough to draw blood and tugged off one of her gloves in order to touch her fingertips to it, drawing them back to look at the bright red smear. She tasted iron and could smell it in the air as well. She blinked and was suddenly transported back to Venterre, back to her home, back to the garden in which she thought she had been raising the dead. The air was still, everything was supernaturally quiet, and the sky overhead appeared deep crimson. She shuddered, could feel growing agitated and jumpy.

“People from all over would bring their dead or dying to me. My parents told people that I could help them… save them… and maybe they believed that once upon a time, but eventually it became a lie. I couldn’t save anyone, I only ever made things worse. More painful.”

“What did you do, Cadenza?” Valdemar’s voice was distant, echoing.

The magician looked down at her hands. She was cradling someone’s head in them, their eyes were closed, but she knew that even if they were open they would be unseeing. The person’s skin was cold to the touch, even colder than hers, and oh how she wished she had her velvet gloves in order to protect herself from feeling that chill of death firsthand. She gazed down at the person’s face, committed their features to memory, and she allowed her magic to venture into them, allowed it to search for the faintest whisper of their life-force that remained in the realm of the living in order to learn it, too.

“I used animancy, first,” she whispered. “I needed to—to learn how they felt in life, to get a sense of their soul. As it turns out… animancy and necromancy go hand in hand.”

There. A whisper, a thread. Cadenza’s magic wrapped around it and she held it tight. It was all that was left of this person in the realm of the living. Cadenza didn’t even feel like breathing at that point, for fear that the lightest of breaths could set what remained of the person’s soul adrift and never to be found again. Now that she knew them, however,—at least as well as she could—she could search for them. Ever so careful not to let that thread slip from her grasp, Cadenza followed it into a vast expanse of darkness; venturing far beyond the reaches of her physical body.

She was headed somewhere cold, somewhere she would find what she was looking for in a state of transition from one life into the next. Snippets of sounds, feelings, and sights flashed through Cadenza’s mind, and her stomach lurched. She could hear countless voices calling to her, a cacophony of people pleading for a better fate, she felt sharp anxiety and distinct discomfort, she knew that she was venturing somewhere she didn’t belong, and she could see shadows in her periphery… shadows that weren’t _right_.

“No, I can’t go back.” Cadenza opened her eyes and practically leapt to her feet. She was back in Vesuvia, back in the solarium, and the Quaestor was looking at her strangely. “I was-” She shook her head. “Did I leave? Or have I always been here?”

“The only thing that was transported was your mind. It appears as though your memories overtook you.” Valdemar didn’t rise to their feet, rather, they leaned back in their seat and steepled their fingers as they observed Cadenza’s twitchiness, the way she was tapping her foot and moving her fingers at her sides. “The place to which you refuse to return… I think I know it.”

“What is it?”

“Death’s Realm,” Valdemar replied matter-of-factly. They cocked their head to the side. “Well, a twisted version of it, at least. You visited a place that humans were never meant to visit and you visited it repeatedly, without any care for the rules—naturally, there was something ‘off’ about it because you flouted them.”

“Rules…? I didn’t know that there were rules, I just- I did what I was told. I did what I _knew_.” Cadenza started to pace. “I followed the threads there every time, I did what I could to gather up all of the life-force of the person brought to me, and then I brought them back. O-Or, I brought them back for a few minutes. Then it all went wrong, it _always_ went wrong.” She was growing frantic, now. “Their eyes would change, their voice would crack and turn monstrous, their teeth would sharpen, their fingers elongate, they-”

“They became demons.”

“Yes.” Cadenza dropped to her knees, tears were flowing freely down her cheeks as she was forced to confront painful reminder after painful reminder. “I turned them into demons. And I had to kill them. Every time. I never helped a single person, all I brought was more suffering into the lives of the people who thought I could save their loved ones.”

Valdemar rose from the couch and knelt down in front of Cadenza, tilting her chin up so that she would look them in the eyes. They scanned her features calmly, their blood-red gaze betraying no emotion whatsoever. “So much guilt… and for what? It doesn’t change the past. You can only look forward.”

“Look forward to what?” Cadenza scoffed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “Never practicing necromancy again? Already on it.”

“No. To _learning_.”

While Cadenza tried to get her crying and sniffling under control, Quaestor Valdemar stalked around the couch to the long, narrow table behind it upon which Count Lucio would typically place a pitcher of wine. They picked up a leather-bound journal that Cadenza hadn’t even noticed they had set down and made their way back over to the young magician at a meandering pace before kneeling down in front of her once more. They held the journal out to Cadenza, who wrinkled her running nose and raised an eyebrow.

“What’s this?”

“Knowledge from necromancers of the past—some of whom I worked with, personally. They detail spells, the ins and outs of their magic, their own trips into the Arcane Realms, and… well, you will soon learn all of it.”

Cadenza felt yet another surge of emotion and she pushed the journal away from her, back into Valdermar’s hands.“What on earth makes you think I would want this? Did you not listen to a word I said?”

“I did listen, and it is because I listened that I am offering you this _treasure_.” Valdemar gazed directly into Cadenza’s eyes, unblinking. “Your lack of knowledge about necromancy has caused you as well as others pain. Do you not want to learn more? Learn whether you could save people in the way that you intended?”

Cadenza pressed her lips together thoughtfully yet again. They were still slippery with blood. She looked at the journal in Quaestor Valdemar’s hands and down at her own trembling, empty hands. What was it that she had been doing wrong all those years? Could she still save people? Was she still redeemable? Was her failure that she was simply uneducated in necromancy, proper? In that moment, Cadenza’s resolve crumbled just a little bit. She took the journal from Quaestor Valdemar without a word, ran her fingers across the embossing in the leather cover. _The Forge_.

Valdemar rose to their feet, as did Cadenza. “You’ll come see me?” they asked.

“I suppose.” Cadenza shuffled her feet, she avoided looking Valdemar in the eyes. She felt vulnerable enough. “If I feel the need to come back, I will.”

Valdemar laid a hand on their chest, over where their heart presumably beat. “I swear that I will not seek you out.”

“Much appreciated, I don’t appreciate being tricked or cornered.” Cadenza nodded briskly at Valdemar and started for the door—she wanted this encounter and everything that came with it to be far behind her. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Cadenza.” Valdemar grinned that toothy grin of theirs and waved at the young magician as she retreated. “I do hope that you will return to me eventually.”


	10. Delilah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which afternoon studies at the shop are interrupted when Asra requests a practical demonstration of Cadenza’s magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning(s): some horny thoughts on Asra’s part.

Between the hours of noon and three in the afternoon, the shop was closed for business and Zia Nevra either left for the Palace or went to lie down in her room if her headaches were especially bad. Cadenza, however, always retreated to the quiet study on the second floor to work through yet another book in her aunt’s vast repertoire of magical material. And Asra, who was heading into his third week of living and working at the shop, had gotten into the habit of joining his not-quite friend to do some reading of his own.

The young magicians sat side by side with their backs pressed against the sturdy wooden desk that took up a great deal of space in the study, their legs crossed or folded as they sipped afternoon tea carefully so as to not spill a single drop on the delicate pages of the books that were balanced in their laps. The only sounds that could be heard were the rustling of turning pages, their steady breathing, and the distant clamour of Vesuvia. It was peaceful, these were optimal circumstances, and yet… Cadenza’s thoughts wandered.

Even though she was occupied with reading a fairly interesting passage in a book on green magic, the raven-haired magician’s thoughts kept stubbornly circling back to Asra. Despite the fact that he had been living with her and her aunt for nearly a month, she had to admit that she still wasn’t quite sure what to make of him. He certainly wasn’t an unpleasant presence, but messes seemed to follow him wherever he went and he sometimes intruded on Cadenza’s personal time—not maliciously, but it was still somewhat annoying when she was trying to do some more serious reading done. She had barely managed to crack open the journal that the Quaestor had given her before Asra was barging in.

And then there was the matter of the staring. It wasn’t often that Cadenza actually caught Asra in the _act_ of staring at her, but she could sense his eyes on her often. Following her as she walked across a room. Observing the way she swayed back and forth when she played the violin. Tracking the movements of her hands when she prepared meals or tea. Sometimes he even stared when she was doing nothing of particular interest. He was staring at her now, Cadenza was sure of it. She could sense him sneaking darting glances over at her; peering at her face in profile rather than the book in her hands.

Cadenza looked up from her book suddenly, her gaze locking with Asra’s. “Can I help you with something?”

In response to being caught, Asra’s cheeks flushed and he immediately looked away in an attempt to escape the intense scrutiny of Cadenza’s dark eyes. “I, um, I was just thinking.”

“Thinking about what? I feel like I’m entitled to know since you were doing this thinking of yours while staring directly at me.”

Asra’s blush deepened. One would think that he would have gotten used to Cadenza’s inability to mince words by now. “I’ve been reading this book on animancy for a few days, but I still don’t really understand it in practice,” he explained, holding up the book like a supporting piece of evidence. “Life-force is a concept that’s… abstract, and I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around it.”

“All magic is inherently abstract,” Cadenza replied matter-of-factly. She plucked the book from Asra’s hands and leafed through the pages before closing it with a shake of her head. “No wonder you’re confused, you’re trying to start at a place that’s too advanced for your current level of skill and understanding.”

“Your aunt thinks I’m talented, and you said so yourself when we first met that I have a lot of potential.”

“You’re talented when it comes to the things you were already good at before coming here. Every magician has their natural talents and you’ve never given any indications that animancy is one of yours, which means you need to start with the basics.”

“Oh?” Asra saw an opportunity here to regain some semblance of equal footing in the conversation. He twisted himself around somewhat in order to face Cadenza properly and propped his chin up with his hand. He raised an eyebrow. “And you’re an expert on the subject?”

“The notes in that book you were reading are mine.” Cadenza leaned in ever so slightly, her breath ghosting across Asra’s lips as she examined his embarrassed expression. “In case it wasn’t clear, I’m an animancer—so I should think that I know what I’m talking about.”

“I know- _knew_ that. I knew that.” Asra took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and some of the redness in his cheeks subsided. “Sorry. I’ve had a lot on my mind. I guess your specialty slipped my mind.”

“Ease up, I never said that I wouldn’t help you,” Cadenza snapped and she noted that Asra flinched slightly at the abruptness of her tone, so she tried to soften it as she continued. “I can help you… if you want.”

“By all means, show me the ropes.”

“Okay. Do you want to be on your back or on your stomach for this?”

“Wait, what?” Asra blinked. Had he heard her correctly? “What’s ‘this,’ exactly?”

“You said that you find the concept of life-force abstract, I’m going to make it less abstract for you. So, do you want to be on your back or on your stomach? The choice is yours.”

Indeed, Asra pondered the choice, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he did. Eventually, he came to a decision. All the while gathering his confidence, he slumped onto the floor and shuffled around until he was lying flat on his back on the wooden floorboards semi-comfortably with his arms folded behind his head. He allowed himself a small, smug smile as he looked up at Cadenza through white eyelashes and an unreadable glint in his violet eyes; waiting to see what she would do next. He found out mere moments later when she swung her leg over him to straddle his hips.

“Relax.” Cadenza flattened her cool palms to Asra’s chest when she saw his eyes go wide with surprise and he stilled beneath her. “If you want me to stop at any given point in time, all you need to do is say so.”

Once again, Asra felt his cheeks flush. He looked away, threading his fingers through his own curls and tugging gently in an attempt to ground himself. Eventually, he was able to meet Cadenza’s unbelievably steady gaze. “I’m good, um, carry on.”

“I’m going to unbutton your shirt now, if that’s all right with you.”

Asra tried to answer with his words, but he found himself unable to speak around a lump that had formed in his throat, so he nodded instead. He reached for the buttons of his shirt at the same time that Cadenza did and their fingers had only barely brushed against each other before he found himself rapidly withdrawing from the contact that made his breath hitch. Cadenza undid the buttons of his shirt deftly, and Asra imagined that her speed and precision came from years of playing the violin. When his shirt fell open, he was forced to turn his face into his shoulder to stifle a groan at the sensation of Cadenza’s calloused fingertips brushing against his sensitive skin.

Only once he had collected himself somewhat was Asra able to look Cadenza in the eyes again. Her expression was one of unbridled focus, her brown eyes tracking invisible lines across his body. Asra found himself both amazed and intimidated by how she didn’t seem to be affected at all whereas he would be a gasping, shuddering mess if he let his control slip even for a moment. When she pressed her hands firmly to his abdomen and started to trail them upward, Asra practically bit through his bottom lip and had to remind himself that what was happening was nothing more than a lesson.

“Life-force flows through every living being, but there are meridians in the body where it flows in more _tangible_ ways… and it’s these meridians upon which animancers base a lot of their work,” Cadenza explained and she stopped with her hands resting on either side of his chest, her thumbs just barely grazing his scars.

“What are you doing right now?” Asra gasped when Cadenza dug her fingertips someplace that almost made him see stars and that definitely made him arch his back.

“I’m currently applying pressure to the northernmost end of one of the principal meridians of the body and interrupting the flow of your life-force.”

“You’re interrupting the flow of my _life-force?_ ” Asra started to sit up, panicked. “Why would you do that? Stop it!”

“If I didn’t interrupt it,” Cadenza said, slowly relieving the steady pressure she had been applying, “you wouldn’t have been able to feel this.” And with that ominous statement, she let go entirely.

At first, Asra didn’t feel anything of note and he was just about to comment on the fact when a feeling he had never experienced before washed over him. His mind went blank. Completely and utterly blank. He felt like he was sinking into the floor and floating high above it at the same time. He felt a lightness in his chest—the air had never tasted sweeter to him, breathing had never filled him with such satisfaction. The light that streamed in through the windows was bright and the colours around him were vibrant, more so than he had ever seen them. As he gazed up at Cadenza’s face, he noticed that there were gold flecks in her eyes. They looked molten and warm in the sunlight.

“Do you feel that?” Cadenza asked and all Asra could do was nod in response. “You said that life-force is abstract, but temporarily interrupting its flow through you, I made you aware of it. Animancy is based upon that awareness.”

For the first time in his life, Asra was acutely aware of his own presence as a living, breathing person in his surroundings—his surroundings that thrummed with as much energy that he felt within. The realization would have taken his breath away if it hadn’t already gone out of him. He was alive. His every heartbeat in his chest was a magical thing. Every breath was a gift and granted him more energy to keep going. He could feel the twitches of his muscles, the sliding of his tendons as he looked around to take in the beauty of the surroundings that people so often took for granted.

As it turned out, the feeling of enhanced awareness was a double-edged sword, because Asra was also suddenly and uncomfortably aware of Cadenza, who was searching his face with unbridled intensity in her gaze, and whose pelvis was pressed against his as she remained seated on top of him. He swallowed hard, fought to keep his gaze fixed on her face. Her lips still glistened with the tea she had been drinking earlier, her dark lashes fluttered as she continued to search his expression. Her hands had found their way back to rest on his chest, her fingers tapping a gentle rhythm against his skin as she waited for a reaction.

“The greater your awareness and the deeper your understanding, the more potential applications of animancy you’ll begin to see.” Cadenza blinked slowly, still not looking away. “Do you see the potential applications of what I did to you just now?”

“I’m not- I don’t-” Asra clenched his jaw almost to the point of pain. He couldn’t take this anymore. He pushed Cadenza off of him and stood up quickly, grabbing the book on animancy that he had been reading on his way up. “I’m sorry, I think I just need to read for a while… try to wrap my head around it on my own.”

“Of course, that’s very reasonable.” Cadenza stood as well and as she came face to face with Asra, she noticed that he had a flushed appearance about him. “Are you feeling well? Here, let me take a look at you.”

Asra took a step back and started for the door. “I’m fine, just a little overwhelmed. Reading a bit on my own will clear things up, I’m sure.”

Cadenza was caught a little off guard by Asra wanting to read by himself. She had gotten used to his presence during her hours of study. “O-Okay.”

Before she could even think to ask any of the number of questions that she had about Asra’s reaction to her demonstration, before she could thoroughly ensure that he was, in fact, feeling well, he was gone. She heard the door to the room they shared slam shut moments later. With a sigh, she squatted down and started to gather some of the books that he had left scattered about the floor; placing them back on the shelves where they belonged. Messes followed him wherever he went, but she didn’t have the heart to shout at him over it. After all, cleaning did soothe her somewhat.

Even as she cleaned, an activity that would typically keep her mind occupied for a while, her thoughts kept drifting back to Asra—Asra and the way that he had looked at her when she had him beneath her, the way he had trembled like a leaf beneath her touch. His reactions had been bizarre, she knew that much, and she wished that she had been able to interrogate him further on them. Wishing didn’t help her, however, and Cadenza shook her head to clear thoughts of her roommate from her mind. She was finally alone, and that gave her an opportunity to do some more serious reading.

After checking the hallway to ensure that Asra was nowhere to be seen and firmly closing the door to the study, Cadenza made her way over to the black chest that had been shoved off to the side and out of the way. She knelt down in front of it and carefully removed a key from her pocket that she always carried on her person. The key fit perfectly into the lock and the chest sprung open with a soft _thud_ when its lid hit the wall behind it. With as steady a hand as she could manage, Cadenza removed the journal that Quaestor Valdemar had given her. The time had come for her to start reading _The Forge_.


	11. Bedroom Hymns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Asra takes matters into his own hands (wink, wink) after a confusing encounter with Cadenza.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lemon: pillow-grinding, (imagined) thigh-riding, and vaginal fingering.

The moment he closed the door behind him, Asra slumped against it and let out an audible sigh. He shivered moments later and straightened, noting that the window had been left open—a habit that Venterreans evidently had with respect to “changing the air.” Normally, this wouldn’t bother him, but this time he was cold because his shirt was still wide open, his skin was still tingling where Cadenza had touched him. When he closed his eyes, all he could see was her face when she had been looking down at him, the way her gold-flecked eyes had searched his expression so intently all the while unaware of the effect she had had on him.

Gods, the more he thought about Cadenza and the way she had touched him, the more it felt like lightning was coursing through his veins. He suddenly felt too hot rather than cold, and he didn’t bother to close the window as he shrugged his shirt off the rest of the way. He paused when his fingers found the button that kept his pants snug around his hips, biting his lip as he deliberated. There was an ache between his legs, one that demanded to be paid attention to and taken care of—and despite his best efforts to ignore it, Asra succumbed. 

He removed his pants hastily and nearly tripped over his own feet as he went to kneel on his sleeping mat, thrashing his blankets aside and wedging a pillow between his thighs. The young magician wasted no time in grinding against the pillow, setting a desperate pace that had him bucking his hips as he sought out as much stimulation as he could. He tried to keep his thoughts fixed on the sensations alone, tried to keep himself firmly grounded in the present reality, but he failed in that, too. His thoughts inevitably wandered, oh, how they wandered.

He closed his eyes and imagined that it was Cadenza’s leg wedged between his thighs rather than his pillow. He wondered whether she would grip his hips and tell him to slow down in that no-nonsense tone that she so often used on pushy customers. He wondered whether she would sit up and cup his face in her hands, fixing him with her ever-intense gaze before asking whether he was eager even as he ground himself against her with wild abandon. He wondered whether she would kiss him and swallow the moans that threatened to spill from his lips or whether she would urge him to be louder.

The ache between his legs intensified and heat pooled in his abdomen, but Asra knew that grinding against a pillow wasn’t going to do it for him. The stimulation just wasn’t enough. He wanted more. More, more, _more_. He released the pillow from the vice-like grip of his thighs and collapsed onto his back. He couldn’t tug his underwear down fast enough, plunging a finger into his pussy without wasting a moment. He clamped a hand over his mouth just in time to muffle a groan that would have definitely drawn unwanted attention.

It didn’t take long at all for one finger to no longer be enough and Asra added a second to the mix, wasting no time in scissoring and curling them inside of him: his fingertips just barely brushing against his g-spot. He moaned wantonly into the palm of his hand. Stimulating his g-spot was always a difficult task when he was equipped only with his fingers and no amount of spreading his legs or angling of his hips made the task easier. If only he could have some help… if only he could have Cadenza.

The raven-haired magician’s fingers were longer than Asra’s, more agile and trained, too. And oh, the callouses that graced her fingertips were not so much the curse of a violinist as they were a blessing in disguise. They had already felt heavenly against his skin when she had indulged him in a demonstration of her magic and he imagined that they would feel even better stroking his soft, sensitive inner walls. The thought of Cadenza kissing his inner thighs while she slid her fingers inside him down to the knuckles and being able to feel her callouses in that way… Asra clenched around his fingers.

Back arching and toes curling, Asra continued to fuck himself with his fingers. He was close, so very close to the edge. His legs were trembling, his inner thighs were so slick that any attempts to press them together would have failed, and he was panting so heavily that the hand he had kept pressed over his mouth actually felt wet. He just needed a little bit more in order to come, and that “little bit more” came in the form of the thought of Cadenza leaning over him, her curls brushing against his shoulder as she whispered in his ear that she wanted to feel him when he came, to finger him through his orgasm until he was shaking and overstimulated, and begging for a break.

Biting his palm hard enough to lead a mark, Asra finally came. His movements slowed down significantly when he did and he opted to finger himself lazily through his orgasm, just barely massaging his inner walls as they clenched and fluttered. When even that gentle stimulation grew to be too much for him, he withdrew his fingers with a soft sigh. After hastily tugging his underwear back up despite the slickness that remained between his legs, Asra stretched out on his sleeping mat, and as he came down from the high of his orgasm he was hit with a few realizations.

The first realization was that he _wanted_ Cadenza. He wanted her in a way that went beyond simple friendship. The second realization was that he was barely even Cadenza’s friend and he had touched himself while entertaining thoughts of something more between them. The third realization was that he would have to face her every single day, having masturbated with thoughts of her in mind. Guilt replaced the pleasure he had been feeling mere moments ago. What had he done? And more importantly, what was he going to do?


	12. Dog Days Are Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Asra broaches the topic of friendship and brings Cadenza to one of his favourite places in Vesuvia.

Asra had been uncharacteristically twitchy around Cadenza for the past few days and the latter of the two had picked up on it quite easily. A feat in and of itself since, not too long ago, she could have just as easily been oblivious to all of the little signs that something about their dynamic had changed. Unsure of what she was meant to do, Cadenza did the only thing she could think to do: keep her distance. Even now, as she moved around the cramped, messy kitchen preparing their breakfast, she made sure to give Asra (who was tapping his feet under the table) a wide berth.

What Cadenza didn’t know was that the complete silence for the exception of the soft clatters of porcelain and pots as she prepared their daily caffè latte made things all the more awkward, at least on Asra’s end. He was desperate for her to strike up a conversation about literally anything. He wished that she would ask him about the weather they were having. He wished that she would tell him about the new breakfast cookies she had bought from the baker. He longed for a distraction from his thoughts that kept circling back to topics that he could under no circumstances bring up.

“Caffè latte with extra latte for you, caffè latte with more caffè for me, and cookies for both of us,” Cadenza said as she carefully placed cups full of hot coffee and milk on the table, and pushed cookies to the middle of it. “Buon appetito.”

“I want to be your friend!” Asra blurted out suddenly, prompting Cadenza to set her cup back down on its dish with a frown. She hadn’t even managed to take a sip from it.

For a few moments, Cadenza was quiet. The conversation was unexpected, to say the least, and judging by the flush that coloured Asra’s cheeks, he hadn’t intended to speak the words aloud. But they were out in the open now. “Why?” the raven-haired magician eventually asked. The tone that she took was light and curious.

“Uhh.” Asra pressed his lips together, gave himself a moment to get over the embarrassment of having started the conversation in such an awkward way. “We live and work together now, and… I don’t know. I like being around you and I’d like to be your friend instead of just someone you happen to spend a lot of time with.”

Cadenza’s frown returned. “Okay, but what does being friends have to do with that? Why do you want to be my friend?”

“What do you mean?” Asra leaned forward in his seat, propping his elbows up on the table. It was his turn to be curious. “Have you never made friends with someone before?”

Cadenza folded her arms defensively across her chest. “I hardly left my home for eleven years.” She made a face like she regretted giving away that detail. “So, to answer your question: no, I don’t think that I’ve ever ‘made friends’ with anyone.”

“Oh.” That wasn’t the answer that Asra had been expecting to hear, and he wasn’t exactly sure of how he was meant to respond. “Oh,” definitely didn’t seem like a sufficient response, but at the same time, he wasn’t sure whether he should press it further. “Well, isn’t that all the more reason to give it a shot?”

“Are you… making fun of me?”

“No, no, I’m entirely serious!” Asra reached across the table to gently touch Cadenza’s elbow. “Listen, I’ve already expressed that I’d like for us to be friends, but I’ll leave the final decision up to you. You’re in control, okay? You call the shots. How does that sound?”

Cadenza shifted in her seat and nudged Asra’s hand off of her, but nodded nonetheless. “That sounds good.”

“Cool.” A pause and Asra fidgeted nervously with the hem of his shirt. He eventually managed to look up from his hands to meet Cadenza’s gaze once again. “Did you want to maybe hang out today?”

“You mean reading together in the study?”

“No, I mean… it’s a beautiful day, why not go out someplace in Vesuvia? Enjoy the fresh air, sunlight, and each other’s company?”

“I must admit that despite the fact that I’ve been living here for a few months now, I’m still not very familiar with the city, itself.” Cadenza took a long drink from her caffè latte. “I wouldn’t know where to go to ‘hang out.’”

“I have a few ideas. If you’d like to hear them, that is.”

After a few moments of thought, Cadenza nodded. “Okay. Let’s finish our breakfast first, though. It’s the most important meal of the day.”

Asra couldn’t help laughing. “Yes, you remind me of that every morning.”

The two magicians finished their breakfast calmly, drank their caffè latte and polished the plate clean of the cookies that Cadenza had set out for them. The cookies were more for Asra than Cadenza, though. He needed them in order to choke down the caffè latte that was still too bitter for him no matter how much milk Cadenza added to it for him. He was fairly certain that she burned the coffee every time, but he wasn’t going to say anything since she was nice enough to prepare it for him.

Once all of the crumbs had been cleaned up and they had both washed up, Asra and Cadenza set out for the Heart District. It was a part of Vesuvia that Cadenza had passed through many times thanks to her frequent excursions to the Palace, but she had never really taken the time to explore it—something that was soon going to change. The pair walked down the streets and over bridges practically glued together at the shoulders, which introduced a flush into Asra’s cheeks. He made no attempts to push her away, though, as it seemed that the proximity to someone who was at least somewhat familiar set her at ease.

The Heart District was a beautiful place to walk through. The marble from which many of the buildings were built was almost blindingly white in the sunlight, the streets were so well taken care of that they didn’t need to look down at their feet to ensure that they didn’t step in a pothole or trip over uneven cobblestones, beautiful flowers graced windowsills and bloomed from vines that crept up elegant stone arches, and everywhere one looked, jewels with which the wealthy adorned themselves glittered when they caught the light. The only thing that dulled the beauty of the Heart District were the occasional looks of disdain shot at outsiders by passing nobles and members of the upper class.

Compared to Asra and despite the air of unease that seemed to accompany her whenever she ventured beyond the walls of the shop, Cadenza fit in quite well in the Heart District. She walked with her back straightened and shoulders drawn back, her step was even though she wore sandals with socks, and the construction of her clothes meant that none of the passersby even bothered to glance down at her feet to see what she had going on in terms of shoes. Now that Asra thought about it, both Cadenza and her aunt dressed fairly elegantly, if somewhat eccentrically. And they certainly didn’t seem to want for money, either.

“Hey, Cadenza, can I ask you a question?”

Cadenza turned her head slightly in order to face Asra. She scanned his expression carefully before answering: “Yes.”

“How and why did your aunt end up with a shop in Centre City?”

“When she first came to Vesuvia she was around our age, I think. The way she tells it, no one seemed particularly keen to give her the time of day at first, let alone offer accommodations. She had to negotiate for two days and spent nearly all of the money she had to purchase the shop. And the only reason she managed to purchase it was because it was not in a particularly good state when it was being sold. Why do you ask?”

“I just thought that she would have moved things over to the Heart District by now, I don’t know.”

“Why? Because she has money now? No. She’s grown quite fond of the shop—she poured her heart and soul into it over the years to make it what it is.”

“Oh.”

“Besides, I think she finds the people who live in the Heart District much too stuffy for her tastes,” Cadenza said a little bit too loudly, earning a few sideways glances. “She also says that nothing beats seeing nobles ‘rough it’ in ‘lower Vesuvia’ when they come to see her since she refuses to do house calls for anyone other than Count Lucio.”

Asra smiled. “She’s right. It is pretty great to see that.”

Cadenza paused, inspected Asra’s face again. Seeing him smile made her want to smile as well. She couldn’t explain it. “I like seeing you smile, Asra. I’d love to see you do it more often.” And then she carried on as if she had said nothing at all while Asra had to stop briefly in order to collect himself.

“Um, thank you, that’s very kind of you to say.”

“Can it really be considered ‘kind’ if I was just speaking my truth?” Cadenza shrugged. She struggled to wrap her mind around being thanked for being honest. Wasn’t that something that ought to be expected from everyone? “Where is it that you’re bringing me again?”

“To the Hanging Gardens, which are situated at the heart of the Heart District, funnily enough. Speaking of… they’re just up ahead. Come on.”

Taking Cadenza’s hand in his own and doing his best to keep himself from blushing, Asra led her over a bridge and around one last corner before finally coming to a stop. He was about to make a show of formally introducing her to the Hanging Gardens, but she had already pulled away from him and walked right up to the balustrade that lined the canals. Her eyes were wide and her lips were slightly parted as she gazed at the wonder that was Vesuvia’s very own Hanging Gardens.

The tiered structure stood at least as tall as the buildings that surrounded it and almost resembled a hill what with all of the greenery that covered it. Interspersed amidst the variety of trees, shrubs, flowers, and vines that grew in the magnificent Hanging Gardens were beautiful marble statues and fountains that depicted any number of animals and deities. The blooming flowers filled the air with pleasant scents and the pop of colour that they brought to the surroundings was far richer than that of jewels. Blue agapanthus took the place of sapphires, pink daphne took the place of pink tourmaline, euphorbia took the place of citrine, ranunculus took the place of rubies, sea lavender took the place of amethysts, and so on.

Careful not to disturb Cadenza, Asra walked up slowly to stand beside her, leaning his forearms on the cool balustrade. He turned his head to the side ever so slightly so that he might look upon her face as she took in the Hanging Gardens in silence. Her brow was not furrowed like it typically was and there was a lightness in her expression that made Asra feel lighter as well. Her eyes were open so wide that he could see the gold flecks in her eyes clearly for once as they glittered in the sunlight. Asra forced himself to look away and to look at the Hanging Gardens instead. Silence reigned for a few moments longer until he finally spoke:

“You’ve really never noticed the Hanging Gardens before?”

“Never,” Cadenza replied without glancing away from the Hanging Gardens even for a second. “I always cut around the Heart District—it’s easier to avoid crowds that way.”

“Right, I remember you telling me that you weren’t a fan of crowds when we first met.” A pause. “Do you… like them?”

“The Hanging Gardens?”

“Yes.”

Cadenza nodded and turned her head to the side so that she could smile faintly at Asra. “Very much so.” She propped her chin up on her hand. “This is one of your favourite places in Vesuvia?”

“That’s right.”

“Why?”

That was… not a question that Asra was expecting. He looked down at his hands, wrung them. A hazy memory started to take shape in his mind. “My parents would take me on ‘field trips’ here whenever I was causing too much trouble indoors. They really liked the Hanging Gardens because they reminded them of Zadith.”

“That’s the country just across the Malvent Strait from here, correct?”

“Yes. My parents were originally from there. And so am I, technically, although I don’t remember much of life back in Zadith.”

“It sounds as though the Hanging Gardens are a reminder of another time to you. A happy time?”

Asra mustered a watery smile. He was desperately trying to hold back tears. “A very happy time.”

Cadenza made a humming noise and fell quiet. After a few moments she asked: “Is this the kind of stuff that friends talk about?”

“This and more.”

“Like what?”

“Like… well, what’s your favourite colour?” Asra asked and Cadenza frowned, evidently deep in thought. “Okay, I can already tell that you’re thinking way too hard about this. Just… what’s the first colour that comes to mind when I ask?”

“Purple.” Cadenza’s eyebrows shot up. “Huh, I do really like purple. I suppose I could say that it’s my favourite colour.”

“You look nice in purple.”

“So do you.” Cadenza felt her cheeks heat and glanced away. “At least I should think that you do. You would match with your eyes.”

Asra’s smile widened and he blushed as well. “Thank you.”

“It’s the truth,” Cadenza muttered and then cleared her throat. “Anyway, what other things do friends talk about?”

“All sorts of stuff! Their interests, stories they find funny, how they’re feeling, random thoughts that pop into their heads, people they think are cute… the list goes on.”

“Let’s keep going through the list on the way back to the shop, then.”

“Had enough of being outdoors for today?”

Cadenza looked longingly at the Hanging Gardens. “No, but I need to feed Ribbit his lunch. He’s very particular about his feedings, you know. He needs it to be me, with my tweezers, and my vial of dead flies.”

“I wouldn’t dream of coming between Ribbit and his next meal,” Asra laughed. “If Faust is hungry I might make her a soft boiled egg.”

“What on earth is a soft boiled egg? I’ve heard of and eaten hard boiled eggs, but soft boiled? That doesn’t sound right.”

Before he could second-guess himself, Asra wrapped an arm around Cadenza’s shoulders. “I can show you how to make the best soft boiled eggs when we get back to the shop, after you feed Ribbit.”

“They had better not be gross.”

“Would you be able to taste it if they were?”

“… No. But that doesn’t mean that I can’t find a texture repulsive.”

“Right, right.”

And so, the two magicians set off for the shop, chatting all the while. As he walked and talked, Asra thought to himself that this was the most talkative that he had ever heard Cadenza. He quite liked to hear her talk about lighthearted topics about the specific set of tweezers that she used to feed Ribbit and how he knew if she swapped them out with something else. He hoped that today wasn’t a one-off. He really hoped that he would be able to have more conversations with Cadenza in the future that didn’t boil down to work or responsibilities. But today… it was a good start. A good start for a potential friendship.


	13. Big God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Count Lucio lets slip during one of his sessions with Cadenza what he hopes from her in the future.

After the period of adjustment that followed Count Lucio’s very unexpected and expeditious marriage to Princess Nadia Satrinava, Cadenza was back to being summoned to the Palace with regularity in order to tend to the Count’s unusually blocked-off meridians. It seemed that no matter how often she worked on them, all of the work that she had done during the previous session would be undone by the time she returned. Good for business, naturally, but not so good for Count Lucio or Cadenza who had been quietly pondering possible explanations for this phenomenon for a while only to come up with no clear answers.

Today was no different. She had seen the Count not two days ago and yet, when she laid her gloved hands on him, she sensed that all of the meridians she had worked herself into a sweat unblocking last time were blocked once more. It absolutely defied explanation. That cold, dark energy that lurked beneath the surface continued to unsettle Cadenza, but it made no attempts to lash out at her. It appeared to know that there wasn’t much she could do to it and that it couldn’t do much to her in turn given the heavy velvet gloves she now donned every time she approached the Count.

“What’s on your mind, Caddy?” Lucio asked in a somewhat strained tone of voice when Cadenza dug her fingers sharply into his side.

“ _Now_ I’m thinking that I don’t like it when you call me that.”

“Anyone who spends enough time around me gets a nickname, you should feel honoured I even bothered to learn your name so that I _could_ give you one. Enough with the snark, Caddy, now tell me what’s going on in that head of yours. I feel like I’m entitled to know since you’re determined to jab me extra hard today.”

Cadenza wanted to argue that he was paying her to jab him that hard, but she wisely held her tongue. She had learned long ago that there was no point in arguing with Lucio. “Fine,” she sighed. “I was thinking about the state of your meridians. Explanations for why they are the way that they are and why none of the work I do seems to stick.”

“Oh, uhh… wow, that’s so strange. Magic, am I right?”

“You think that there’s something wrong with my magic?”

“If I thought something was wrong with your magic I wouldn’t let you touch me, let alone pay you to treat me.”

“If there’s nothing wrong with _my_ magic,” Cadenza said, choosing her words as carefully as she could, “are you suggesting that there are other forces at work here?”

The Count fell silent at that interrogation and pressed his lips together, causing them to blanch further. He looked away from Cadenza, opting to gaze out the windows and into the rose garden instead. He had grown noticeably tense as well, his shoulders bunching up slightly and his hands gripping the pillow behind his head tightly; causing it to rip and pillows to spill out as the golden claws of his gauntlet tore the pillowcase. Now, despite her difficulties in terms of gauging how others were feeling at times, Cadenza could tell that she had struck a chord.

“Is there something that I need to know here, Count Lucio?”

Instead of answering her question, Lucio countered with one of his own, seemingly moving on. “Have you heard of the Philosophers’ Stone?”

Cadenza was more than a little annoyed by the obvious diversion, but she managed to keep it to herself. She did, however, roll her eyes. “Every magician worth their salt has. So, yes.”

“If you’ve heard of it, I’m guessing that you’re familiar with its properties?”

“Yes, yes, it’s capable of turning iron into gold or mercury into silver, and all that good stuff.”

“It can also grant someone immortality,” Lucio added with a glint in his eyes that didn’t go unnoticed by Cadenza.

“You speak of all these things as if the Philosophers’ Stone is anything more than a myth.”

“Well, you see… sources tell me that it could be more than a myth. They tell me that it could become a reality in a few years’ time.”

“Name one of these sources.”

“Ginny.” After a few moments elapsed during which Cadenza did not respond, Lucio elaborated: “Your aunt.”

“Yes, I figured.” Cadenza’s brow furrowed and she silently worked her knuckles into Lucio’s abdomen, causing him to wheeze slightly. “How did she make this prediction of hers? Scrying or tasseography?”

“Does it really matter? In all the years that I’ve had her by my side as Court Magician, she hasn’t been wrong once. She predicted that in a few years, ‘a promising young alchemist with untapped potential who could crack the centuries-old problem that is producing a flawless Philosophers’ Stone would find his way to Vesuvia,’ in Ginny’s words.”

Cadenza made a sound of disbelief. “ _Right_.” She shook her head, jabbed Lucio a little bit harder than she needed to. “I _am_ curious, though. If the arrival of this promising young alchemist is so far in the future… why are you bringing all of this up now? The future has no bearing on the present, it’s the present that influences the future.”

“Exactly.” Lucio looked at Cadenza, his eyes narrowing slightly. “If you think you don’t play a part in all of this, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Do you have plans for me that I don’t know about?” Cadenza was fighting to keep emotion out of her voice as she spoke. “Because if I can be candid for a moment, I am _awfully_ tired of people making decisions on my behalf.”

“Relax, I’m telling you know, aren’t I?” Lucio raised his hands in mock surrender before tucking them comfortably behind his head. “But yeah, I’ve got plans for you. _Hopefully_. See, I’ve been trying to figure out your magic, and you haven’t exactly made it easy, but then Ginny told me a story about you and that frog of yours.”

A chill ran up Cadenza’s spine, but she hid her discomfort by flippantly replying: “Ribbit is not my frog, he is my familiar—I do not own him, no one does. Put some respect on his name.”

“Fine, fine, Ginny told me a story about you and… _Ribbit_ , namely about how exactly he came to be the way he is and how you discovered your magic.” Lucio’s expression grew more serious. “Why do you keep it a secret that you basically unlocked the secret to eternal life?”

Cadenza made a face. “Excuse me?”

“You stepped on a little frog one day, you felt sorry that you had broken his little bones, and somehow you transferred his little soul into a rock that you then brought to life. That sounds a lot like the key to eternal life to me. I mean, you hurt yourself or you feel your body starting to grow old and you just… transfer your soul somewhere else: somewhere better, younger, more durable. And you repeat the process whenever you need to.”

“That’s not- That’s-” Cadenza was at a loss for words and she climbed off of Lucio to stand on her own two feet at the foot of the lavish bed on top of which he was sprawled out. “That’s not how my magic is meant to be used! And Ribbit… Ribbit is a special case, I don’t even know _how_ I did what I did.”

Lucio sat himself up. “But if you’ve done it once you could do it again.”

“A lot has changed since then—I’m not as powerful an animancer as I once was… as I could have been.”

“Well, you’ve got a few years to get your strength back up and figure your stuff out before you’re in direct competition with someone else.”

“And by ‘someone else’ you mean this promising alchemist who is supposed to be waltzing up to your door in a few years’ time? According to my aunt’s predictions?”

“That’s the guy.” Lucio winked. “You’re getting an awfully big head start, too, so it would really be shocking if he beat you to figuring out the secret to eternal life.”

“Who says that I’m even going to entertain this desire of yours to never die? What you’re describing goes against the laws of nature.”

“You could argue that treating an injury goes against the laws of nature, too. But I doubt you’d make that argument. Times change. Maybe never dying is the natural progression of things what with all the new stuff we can do with medicine _and_ magic.” Lucio cocked his head to the side, a knowing grin tugging at his lips. “Besides, you’ll never admit it, but you _are_ the proud type, Caddy. I think it would drive you nuts to know that someone else figured out how to do what you did first.”

Cadenza curled her hands into fists at her sides. This was a situation that she would have to deal with carefully. She couldn’t outright refuse, she had heard stories of what had happened to others who had. “I think that it would be more wise if I were to focus on one thing at a time. I mean, would you rather that I took a step back from our current sessions and spend all my time locked in the library on a fool’s errand, instead?”

Lucio was quiet for a few beats, he fiddled with the detachable claws of his golden gauntlet as he reflected upon Cadenza’s words before meeting her gaze looking a bit more timid than earlier. “No, I don’t want that. I don’t want to be in pain.” He cleared his throat and glanced at the clock. “Hey, our session isn’t over yet and you’ve got a lot of ground to cover. I’m not gonna pay you extra if we go over the time because you ran your mouth.”

“You can lie on your stomach now, then,” Cadenza said in as neutral a tone as she could muster.

Once the Count was settled on the bed, the young magician climbed onto it once more. She tugged her velvet gloves higher up her arms in an attempt to protect herself as much as she could from the chill that she sensed emanating from Count Lucio’s meridians every time she laid her hands on him. She was already oh-so-susceptible to the cold on a normal day. But as she got back to work, Cadenza couldn’t help turning the discussion she had had with Count Lucio over and over in her head. It was eternal life that he sought—either with her help or the help of an unseen alchemist who could deliver him the Philosophers’ Stone. Cadenza shook her head yet again. It _was_ a fool’s errand.

She focused back on the unusual energy that blocked the Count’s meridians, silently fought to break it apart and disperse it with her own magic. As always, it was very resistant to her efforts. She had never had this problem with anyone else. If it wasn’t a problem with her own magic… that had to mean that there was another form of magic at work, Cadenza realized. Something darker. Something twisted and… _wrong_. Something clicked into place in her mind. The Count’s fixation on eternal life, the strange energy that she sensed within him… had he tried to claim eternal life for himself in the past? If so, was what she sensed a consequence of failure or success?

It appeared that there was more to Count Lucio than Cadenza had originally thought, and as she worked, she wondered the extent to which he truly had plans for her. He didn’t strike her as the type to bring up a bombshell such as her using magic to gift him with eternal life once and then never mention it again. But now that he had mentioned it, Cadenza knew that she would have to remain on her toes around him from that point onward should things go sideways. Would she ever know peace?


	14. Various Storms and Saints

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Asra and Zia Nevra have a tense conversation about Count Lucio, the Courtiers, and where Cadenza fits into the whole mess.

Ginevra had just finished up with a client of her own in the sitting area of the shop and was in the process of pouring _herself_ a cup of tea when Asra emerged from the back room with a now-bleary-eyed client who had been very insistent for a Tarot reading. Polite as ever despite their initial shortness with him, he ushered the client to the door and even held it open for them. Once they were gone, he sighed and gazed down the street a few moments longer before shutting the door before wandering over to one of the armchairs; perching on it in such a way that he could still see out of the display window.

“She won’t be back for another hour, you know,” Ginevra said, taking a sip of her tea before setting it back down to add more honey. She noticed that Asra was looking at her now. “Would you like a cup of your own?”

“No, thanks, I had some tea earlier.” Asra folded his legs underneath him and with some effort, tore his gaze away from the display window. “And I know that, but _still_.”

Ginevra raised an auburn brow. “You worry about her?”

Asra felt his cheeks heat and he looked down at his hands where they were folded in his lap. “I can’t help it.”

“You have nothing to fear, Asra.”

Regardless of how desperately he wanted to believe that he had nothing at all to fear, something about Ginevra’s nonchalance when she said it rubbed Asra the wrong way. He felt a spark of anger in his gut and he was suddenly relieved that he wasn’t holding a teacup in his hands as he would have surely cracked the delicate porcelain. He took a deep breath, tried to rein in his emotions, but the more he turned Ginevra’s attempt at reassurance over in his head, the more he found that he could no longer keep quiet on a matter that had been bothering him.

“Nothing to fear? I have _nothing_ to fear?” He was speaking loudly, more loudly than he ever had since he had moved into the shop. “How can you say that? How can you say that when… when you _know?_ ”

Asra didn’t need to say the words out loud, Ginevra knew precisely what he was referring to and she set her teacup down on its saucer; growing serious. “I _do_ know. I also know that they won’t lay a finger on Cadenza.”

“How can you be so sure of that? She’s at risk every time she sets foot inside the Palace—how can you just let her walk straight into danger time after time without even warning her?”

“Because she needs to learn to trust her own instincts. She needs to learn to trust in herself and make her own decisions. In the near future, Cadenza will need to make a series of challenging decisions, but she must make them _on her own_ with no influence from _anyone else_ —including me. She has to learn to stand on her own two feet.”

For a few moments, Asra was at a loss for words. Ginevra was really willing to let her niece risk herself like that just so that she could learn a valuable life lesson? “If you think that letting her get close to Count Lucio and his Court is going to accomplish that for her, I don’t know what to tell you. This whole situation is insane! You _know_ —you know the truth about them and you let her hang around them without so much as a warning?”

“I know that the Count has caused you a lot of pain.”

That was the last response that Asra had been expecting to his outburst. He had expected anger in return, he had expected to be shouted out and asked to leave, but he was not at all prepared for the calmness in Ginevra’s voice nor the understanding in her jade-green gaze. The next thing Asra knew, tears were gathering in his eyes; causing them to sting. He instinctively hugged his knees close to his chest and covered his eyes with his forearm. His breathing was shallow, laboured as he tried to keep himself from bursting into tears in front of Ginevra.

“I don’t know everything, but I know some of it.” Ginevra stood up and moved to sit in the armchair beside Asra’s. “I understand why you’re afraid for Cadenza, I do.”

“What don’t you know?” Asra scoffed, wiping his eyes one last time before looking up.

“Please, _caro_ , listen to me.” Ginevra waited for Asra to meet her gaze. “Whatever it is that you went through, I am sorry. You deserved to feel safe and protected. You deserved to be saved from that hurt. However, I promise you that I am not committing Cadenza to the same fate that you incurred.”

“How can you be so sure?” Asra was fighting to keep his voice from cracking. “How can you be so sure that they won’t hurt her?”

“Because Cadenza is not defenceless. She’s older than you were when these things happened to you _and_ she has us. Yes, I want her to learn how to stand on her own two feet, but she has us to lean on if things get out of control. We’re her support system… just not her decision-makers.”

Asra shook his head. “They’re dangerous, Nevra. You know as well as I do what they’re capable of—in fact, you probably know better than me what they’re capable of doing.”

Ginevra chewed her lower lip, staining her front teeth slightly with lipstick. “Your concern is admirable, Asra, truly. But please try to understand that there are certain matters in which we shouldn’t interfere. How things between Cadenza, Lucio, and the Courtiers play out is one of those matters.”

“Thanks, this was a very productive discussion.” Asra stood up abruptly. He couldn’t spend one moment longer in that room. “I don’t agree with you and you don’t agree with me, but neither of us is going to change the other’s mind, so I’m just going to save my energy.”

“ _Asra_ ,” Ginevra called after him as he made for the stairs. “Asra, my allegiance isn’t to them—it’s to me, to Cadenza… to you, now, as well. _Asra!_ ”

The young magician didn’t stop or turn around to face Ginevra. Despite his anger and frustration, he didn’t stomp up the stairs or down the hallway. Neither did he slam any doors behind him, effectively leaving the older magician uncertain as to which room he had retreated into, although she suspected that he had selected the room he shared with Cadenza. Once Ginevra was relatively certain that Asra wasn’t lurking on the landing, however, she let out a long sigh and put her head in her hands.

In truth, Ginevra _was_ concerned about Cadenza’s well-being. She worried every time she left for the Palace—she worried that she would come back frightened and in tears like she had that one time. She tried to be there for her niece as much as she could, but ultimately she knew that she could not interfere any more than she already had. It was up to Cadenza to choose what path she was going to follow, in who she was going to place her trust, and what decisions she was going to make. After a lifetime of being deprived of freewill… Ginevra figured that she owed it to her niece to determine what was right for her on her own accord.


	15. Third Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cadenza is summoned to the Palace by the new Countess, who has a special request.

Cadenza was mildly surprised and a little bit annoyed when she learned from her aunt that she had been summoned to the Palace on what was supposed to have been her day off. Still, she put up no argument and set off on her regular route for the Palace without so much as a backward glance over her shoulder—after all, she needed to save her energy if she was going to have to deal with Count Lucio without having prepared herself beforehand.

By now, the young magician had become adept at navigating the streets of Vesuvia. Once upon she had either made attempts to stall herself or gotten lost entirely by accident, but she knew better on both fronts at this point. Despite resenting being called away from the shop when she hadn’t been expecting to have to leave, her step was sure and she made it to the Palace gates in near-record time. The Palace guards opened the gate and stepped aside without making any fuss—they knew her well and could recognize her approaching from a distance by the bounce of her curls.

“Thank you, good day to you both,” Cadenza said to the guards as she passed them, briefly inclining her head to them as well before continuing on her way. It was just about to take her usual path to the Count’s solarium when she heard someone calling after her.

“Miss Cadenza! Miss Cadenza over here!”

Cadenza paused and turned in the direction of the voice to see the chamberlain who had led her to the solarium on her first day in Count Lucio’s employment. She waited for him to catch up to her before asking: “Yes?”

“The solarium isn’t your intended meeting place for today as it was not the Count who summoned you here,” the chamberlain replied, slightly out of breath. “The Countess has requested your presence in the salon and I am meant to accompany you there.”

“The Countess?” Cadenza raised an eyebrow. This was a turn of events that she hadn’t been expecting. “Well, what does she want with me?”

“You’ll find out soon enough. Follow me, she’s quite anxious to see you. Whatever it is that she wishes to see you for, it appears as though the matter is quite urgent.”

Rather than wasting time with further interrogations of the chamberlain who apparently knew very little, Cadenza fell into step alongside him as he led her through unfamiliar hallways to the salon that he had mentioned. As she walked, the young magician pondered possible reasons why the Countess had asked for her to begin with. Was she still concerned about her health like she had been on the night of the party thrown in her honour, and did she want to see that she was well with her own two eyes? Had she heard from Count Lucio about the magic she was capable of, and did she want to witness or experience it firsthand?

“The Countess is waiting for you right inside,” the chamberlain said, stopping in front of a door that was already open a crack.

“I suppose I’ll find out soon enough,” Cadenza muttered more to herself than anyone else, but the chamberlain had heard her as he was walking away and he turned around.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Cadenza shook her head. “Thank you for escorting me, I would have been hopelessly lost otherwise. I’m not familiar with this part of the Palace.”

“You’re welcome. Best of luck.”

For some reason, Cadenza waited until the chamberlain had disappeared around a corner to open the door fully and step into the salon. The Countess was, indeed, waiting for her. Although not sprawled out on a couch with a half-drained pitcher of wine like Count Lucio would have been had she been summoned to the Palace to see him. The Countess was sitting upright on one of the couches in the bright, elegantly-furnished salon with her hands neatly folded in her lap. A tray of tea and sweets was set out on a wooden table that had been polished to gleaming. Cadenza noted that there were two porcelain teacups on the tray—one of them was presumably for her.

The Countess rose to her feet. “Miss Cadenza, thank you for making yourself available on such short notice.” She gestured to the couch across from the one she had been sitting on. “Please, have a seat.”

“Why did you ask to see me?” Cadenza asked the moment she was seated and the Countess let out a breathless laugh.

“My, you’re certainly to the point. Why don’t you help yourself to some tea and treats first? I wasn’t quite sure of what you liked so I had scones, tarts, and cookies brought out.”

Cadenza shrugged, already reaching for the teapot to pour herself a cup of tea. She hoped that it had been steeped long enough for her. That, or that it was a strong blend. “If you insist, Countess.”

“Please, call me Nadia—I’m not much for titles.”

“If that’s the case, you may call me Cadenza and do away with the ‘Miss’ that people typically place before it.”

Nadia smiled and nodded at the curious young magician seated across from her—observing as she drank the tea she had poured for herself without sweetening it at all with the honey or sugar provided. Her long, elegant fingers tapped against the porcelain as she quietly considered the treats set out in front of her before reaching out to pick up a butter tart; biting into it without any hesitation despite her obvious unfamiliarity with the food as was evidenced by her surprise when some of the filling dripped down her chin and onto her dress.

“Oh dear, do you need a napkin?” Nadia asked, already reaching for one.

“No, thank you.” Cadenza set the butter tart down on her teacup’s saucer and swiped the sweet droplets that had landed on her dress with her index finger, popping that same finger into her mouth moments later. She withdrew her finger and met Nadia’s gaze evenly. “Now, would you care to let me know why it is that you summoned me here today?”

“Yes, of course.” Nadia sat up a little straighter before giving up and slumping her shoulders instead. “The matter is… quite sensitive. Meaning that my husband, the Count, does not know that we are meeting.”

“Oh?” That revelation certainly sparked Cadenza’s curiosity.

“‘Oh,’ is right.” Nadia sighed. “You see, my concern lies with one of the Coliseum’s gladiators—the ‘Scourge of the South,’ as he is popularly referred to by those who are familiar with the bloodsport. Have you heard of him?”

Cadenza shook her head. “I can’t say that I have. My aunt was very clear that the Coliseum was on the list of places in Vesuvia that I should avoid.”

“I see.” There was a pause in which Nadia poured herself a cup of tea, taking a long drink in an apparent attempt to soothe herself. “The sensitive issue that I wanted to speak to you about has to do with the Scourge of the South, but if you don’t feel comfortable, I suppose that I can take my concerns elsewhere.”

Cadenza recognized that Nadia was giving her an out: an opportunity to thank her for the brief visit and to leave, never to give their conversation another second of thought. But rather than taking her up on the out, she hesitated. “ _Wait_. What are these concerns of yours, exactly? And why did you ask for me, of all people, to address them?”

“Because I have been made aware of your healing capabilities. And, because, the first and last time that I saw the Scourge of the South in action, he appeared to be already wounded when he stepped out onto the sands. Apparently, he has evidently been refusing to let any of the Palace physicians near him. So, I thought to turn to you for help and see if you would offer it. Will you help, Cadenza?”

The young magician opened her mouth to answer only to close it again. The Countess had presented her with a lot of information at once and she was struggling to sort through it all. Sitting silently and staring off somewhat blankly into the distance, Cadenza reflected upon what Nadia had relayed to her. The Scourge of the South, a gladiator, was injured and was not allowing qualified physicians to treat him. And Nadia hoped that Cadenza would… what, exactly? That was where the young magician was lost and she conveyed her confusion to Nadia, who consequently explained herself more clearly on that front.

“Pardon me, I know it probably seems to you as though I’ve been spying, but both Lucio and your aunt have spoken quite highly of your magical talents. And from what I understood, it sounded as though you are well-suited to healing. Was I mistaken?”

“I mean, I must admit that ‘healer’ is not a title that I have ever felt fit me particularly well, but I can understand why it might be applied to me. I’m an animancer, and I suppose that by manipulating life-force I can prompt wounds to close and heal a little more rapidly than one might expect them to naturally.”

“If that’s the case, would you feel comfortable seeing the Scourge? Tending to his wounds? I could arrange things such that you could get in and out of the Coliseum unnoticed, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

Cadenza frowned and looked up from her tea to meet Nadia’s ruby-red gaze. “Before I agree to anything, I want to know why it is that you’re so interested in helping this gladiator to begin with. Did you not say that you have only seen him on one occasion? You didn’t even interact with him in any meaningful way that I can discern.”

Although this was not how Nadia had been expecting the conversation to go, Nadia was pleasantly surprised by how freely Cadenza spoke her mind to a Countess—to a _Princess_. After a lifetime of stuffiness as a result of rigid adherence to customs and rules from everyone who found themselves in her vicinity, it was refreshing to be in the company of another person who spoke without restraining or limiting herself in her expression in any way. Despite not having been with the Count for very long, Nadia had to wonder whether he was as appreciative as her of Cadenza’s frankness and readiness to speak up. And so, after taking a deep breath, Nadia did something she had not been expecting to do: she explained her motivations.

“I’m interested in helping the Scourge because I see an opportunity to do so—to help, I mean. I have already spent so much of my life wishing to do more for people and not doing it, and I don’t want to fall into old habits in the new life that I’m making for myself here in Vesuvia.”

“Your motivations are selfish in nature, then.”

Nadia flinched, but only slightly. She quickly recovered from the jab that she wasn’t sure Cadenza recognized as such. “Y-Yes. I suppose that they are, somewhat.” She twisted one of her rings around her finger. “But that doesn’t change how I felt when I saw the Scourge. How I wished I could help him with my own hands. Unfortunately, I lack both practical and magical talent in the arena of treating wounds.”

“I understand.” Cadenza nodded sagely. She _did_ understand. She understood that Nadia was doing as much as she could for the Scourge of the South by taking a chance on her and asking for help. Something that she imagined wasn’t easy for someone of her status.

“Will you help, then, Cadenza? If it’s a matter of money, I will pay you to-”

“Save your money. Please. Count Lucio pays me enough.” Cadenza swallowed hard, hoped she wouldn’t come to regret what she was about to say. “I’ll help the Scourge of the South. And you can rely on my discretion, too.”

Nadia moved like she wanted to stand up only to remain seated instead. She smiled warmly at Cadenza. “Thank you. _Thank you_. I’m sure that the Scourge will be thankful to you as well.”

It was Cadenza who stood up after swiftly draining her cup of tea. “We’ll see,” she said before dismissing herself with an incline of her head. “Good day to you, Nadia, and thank you for the refreshments. I truly hope that I will be able to accomplish what the Palace physicians were not.”

With that, the young magician turned on her heel and walked back out the way she came. As she made her way out of the Palace and back to the shop, Cadenza thought to herself how much more pleasant it had been to deal with Nadia compared to Count Lucio even though the matter that they had discussed was quite dire. Granted, this had been her first official meeting with Nadia and thus, she had not formed a full-fledged opinion of the Countess yet, Cadenza found herself hoping to get the chance to speak with her again. She had felt… _understood_ in a way that so few people had managed to before. And unlike previous times, she walked away from the Palace with a lightness in her step.


	16. My Boy Builds Coffins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cadenza tends to a gladiator’s wounds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning(s): very brief mention of vomit near the end.

It was when Nadia contacted her through discreet channels that the time had come for her to see the Scourge of the South that Cadenza realized for the first just how nervous she was at the prospect. She was really, truly nervous to the point that she didn’t even need her cards to confirm the way that she was feeling and that the tea she sipped did nothing to soothe her upset stomach. Fortunately, Zia Nevra was already at the Palace when the message from Nadia—otherwise, she would have most certainly picked up on the subtle shift in Cadenza’s demeanour. The only obstacle that still stood in the way of Cadenza slipping out of the shop and heading to the Coliseum was Asra, who was by no means clueless, either.

“Are you all right, Enza?” The nickname slipped from Asra’s lips without a second thought—he had been using it for a while and had been met with no objections from Cadenza. “You keep glancing at the clock.”

“I’m fine.” Cadenza pointedly looked away from the clock and met Asra’s gaze as evenly as she could. She took a steadying breath, rehearsing her excuse in her head one last time before reciting it out loud. “It’s just that I’m supposed to do a house call soon, but I don’t know when Zia Nevra is going to be back from the Palace and I didn’t want to leave you alone.”

“Oh, well, if your worry was about leaving me alone in the shop, I’ll be okay. I can hold my own, I promise.”

“Are you sure?” Cadenza asked, even though she had already risen from her seat and was making her way over to the door.

“I’m sure.” Asra propped his chin up on his knuckles and smiled at Cadenza. “Go on! I would hate for you to be late because of me.”

“Thank you. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Doing her best to keep her posture relaxed and her step even, Cadenza walked to the shop’s front door, opened it, and closed it behind her without so much as a single glance over her shoulder. She didn’t want to risk giving away anything in her expression to Asra, who had been getting better and better at reading her. She walked with her head held high until she could no longer see the shop, at which point she dropped her chin and stopped fighting the tension in her shoulders; allowing them to bunch up. The reality of where she was heading had set in and Cadenza, quite frankly, had no idea what to expect. This was something that unsettled her more than she was willing to admit.

Shortly before reaching the Coliseum, Cadenza was approached by two individuals dressed in plain clothes who would have blended seamlessly into the crowd if not for the pink owl feathers pinned to the collars of their jackets. This, Cadenza recognized, was in line with the message that Nadia had sent her and she fell into step behind the two individuals without making a fuss or drawing attention to either of them. Without so much as glancing over their shoulders to ensure that she was still following them, the pair led Cadenza around the Coliseum to a subterranean entrance that was either unknown or off-limits to the public.

It was dark under the Coliseum. The lack of windows meant that none of daylight was able to pierce the gloom and the few torches that lined the rough stone walls were hardly enough to fully illuminate the space. Cadenza walked alone down the narrow, hard-beaten dirt path that extended on for an indeterminate distance. Occasionally, she walked past a cell in which an animal or a shackled person paced bath and forth in front of the bars. Other times, the animal or the person simply laid on the ground. In both cases, Cadenza kept her gaze carefully averted. She had no time to waste, and quite frankly, she was unsure whether she would be able _looking_.

At first, the young magician had been uncertain of how, exactly, she was meant to determine which of the imprisoned gladiators was the Scourge of the South. Nadia’s message hadn’t been of much help, either. The Countess had simply noted that Cadenza would know who she meant when she saw him. Cadenza remembered thinking to herself that surely it couldn’t be that obvious, that she was making a terrible mistake in coming to the Coliseum when she knew so little, but that doubt soon vanished from her mind when she laid eyes on the occupant of one of the last cells in the row.

The Scourge of the South was a large man—large enough that Cadenza figured that if he were standing rather than sitting with his back propped up against the wall, he would probably measure around a foot taller than her. No small feat since Cadenza was already on the taller end of the spectrum of height. He had poorly-maintained long black hair and a dark, scratchy-looking stubble that looked like it had been haphazardly shaved. Blood was caked to his skin and Cadenza could hardly tell where new injuries started and old ones ended. The gladiator also wore iron shackles around his wrists and neck that kept him anchored to the stone wall behind him, something which just added to the misery of the conditions in which he found himself.

“The cell is unlocked,” the Scourge said in a low, rumbling voice. “They told me someone was coming to see me. I guess that’s you.”

“Yes, that’s me.” Cadenza wrapped her fingers around the cool metal bars. Surely enough, the door swung open. She stepped inside and left the door open slightly behind her. “I was sent because you’ve been refusing to see the Palace physicians.”

“That’s because they work for the Count.” The Scourge met Cadenza’s gaze. His green eyes were piercing and… sad. “Did he send you?”

“No, he didn’t.”

“Hm.”

Cadenza waited, but the Scourge didn’t add anything else. After a few moments spent assessing the young magician where she stood awkwardly on the dirt floor, he turned his head to the side to rest it against his shoulder. In doing so, however, his long hair shifted slightly to reveal a relatively fresh wound in his abdomen. Cadenza made a soft noise of surprise and before she could think about what she was doing, she was taking a step toward the Scourge who immediately snapped his head up to stare at her. The frown he wore caused deep wrinkles to appear between his dark eyebrows and dimples appeared at the corners of his mouth as well.

“What are you doing?” he asked, pressing closer to the stone wall behind him in an attempt to put more distance between himself and Cadenza.

“You’re clearly wounded, and I was sent here to tend to any wounds you had.”

“You should leave. Go home. Whatever it is that you do… there are probably better uses for your time.”

“I’m here because I want to help you.” Cadenza took another tentative step forward, and then another. She squatted low to the ground in order to meet the Scourge’s downcast gaze. “Will you let me help you?”

The Scourge was quiet for several beats and Cadenza observed him chewing his bottom lip much like she would when she was thinking something over. Eventually, he moved his shoulders slightly in a gesture of defeat. “You’re already here.”

“That I am. May I inspect your wound?”

Rather than using his words, the Scourge moved one of his hands like he wanted to brush his hair out of the way only to find that the shackles around his wrists severely limited his ability to do so. He made a frustrated noise and tried again with a little bit more force. All he succeeded in doing was causing the metal to rub against his already visibly tender wrists. Wordlessly, Cadenza shifted the Scourge’s long hair out of the way, herself, earning a look of warning from him that prompted her to hold her empty hands out at her sides in an attempt to further demonstrate that she meant him no harm.

“Are you going to growl at me, too, if I try to get any closer? Because I am going to need to get closer and actually touch you to be of any assistance.”

The Scourge made a face, but ultimately relented. He allowed Cadenza to get close enough that he could feel her breath against his skin and that she could practically feel the heat that emanated from his wound. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help flinching and tensing up when she reached out to touch him although she used a featherlight touch. The Scourge practically held his breath as Cadenza trailed her calloused fingertips around the edges of his wound and he actually had to bite down on the inside of his cheek—hard enough to flood his mouth with the taste of blood—when she dug her fingers into him.

“What kind of physician are you, anyway?” the Scourge grunted.

“Oh, I’m not a physician.” The Scourge raised an eyebrow at Cadenza and she realized that he wanted her to elaborate. After applying steady pressure to him with her fingers for a few more seconds, she withdrew her fingers. “I’m an animancer—a magician who deals in life-force, essentially.”

“Animancer. Huh.” The Scourge shook his head slightly, although the movement was restricted by the shackle around his neck. “How are you going to… um… you know.”

“How am I going to treat this wound in your chest?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want me to explain every step?” Cadenza asked and then followed up with a more quiet: “Would that set you at ease?”

The Scourge hesitated and then nodded, the movement once again restricted by the iron locked around his neck. It was rare that Cadenza was able to fully pick up on the emotions of another, but in the case of the Scourge, she sensed a great fear and sadness emanating from him. Perhaps it was the greatness of the emotions, too great even for his body, that allowed her to recognize them. With a gentle nod of her own and after carefully palpating the Scourge’s wound one more time, she dipped her hands into her pockets to remove the fresh blooms that she had surreptitiously clipped from plants around the shop earlier that day.

“Before I start, would you mind telling me your name? I’ve been referring to you as ‘the Scourge’ in my mind, and that feels wrong… somehow.”

The Scourge’s cheeks flushed red and he looked pointedly away. “Muriel.”

“What was that? I’m sorry, you’ll need to speak up a bit.”

“Muriel,” he repeated himself, speaking a bit more loudly than before. “My name is Muriel… but that doesn’t matter.”

“Your name matters to me,” Cadenza answered plainly and Muriel’s blush deepened. “My name is Cadenza—if you were curious.”

“Cadenza,” Muriel repeated her name and frowned. “Your name sounds nicer when you say it.”

“Must be the accent.”

“Must be.”

A pause, and then: “If you’re ready, I can get started.”

“Sure,” Muriel replied, tensing slightly. “I’m ready.”

Another brief silence stretched between Cadenza and Muriel as the magician carefully plucked velvety petals from the flower heads she had brought with her, and pressed them to the contours of the gladiator’s wound. “Our bodies heal naturally, slowly by drawing upon and using the life-force that resides within us in small increments. Your wound has not healed properly because you have very little life-force to spare—you have been using everything that you have in order to keep yourself alert and alive on the sands, I imagine.

“Now, life-force is something that exists in all living things—it is essentially what makes it so that they are ‘living.’ What I am going to do is help your healing process along by transferring the life-force that is still present in these fresh flowers and focusing that energy on your wound. Are you following my process so far?”

Muriel shifted uncomfortably in place. “Sort of.”

“Now, the transfer itself might feel a little… unusual. People I’ve worked on have described it as a cold tingle. As if a eucalyptus salve had just been applied and consequently breathed on.”

“I don’t mind the cold. Besides. I’ve felt worse.”

“I suppose you have.” Cadenza felt briefly embarrassed as she remembered where it was that Muriel spent his days, but quickly recovered. She cleared her throat. “I’m going to do the transfer now, which requires me putting my hands on you again. Please do not be alarmed when your wound begins to close.”

Muriel nodded and leaned his head back against the wall. For a few moments, he breathed deeply and evenly with his eyes closed, seemingly calming himself. When he reopened his eyes, he gave Cadenza a look like it was okay for her to approach, and so she did. She shuffled a little bit closer, getting dirt all over her dress in doing so, and pressed both of her hands over Muriel’s wound; feeling the soft flower petals against her fingertips and palms. She inhaled and exhaled slowly, her eyelids sliding shut as she did, and she allowed her magic to flow out of her, to wind around the threads of life-force that still existed in the flower petals, and to weave those threads with Muriel’s as if she were stitching the wound up with a needle and thread.

A series of soft grunts and groans escaped Muriel, prompting Cadenza to open her eyes and withdraw her touch. Rather than being met with the sight of a healed and scarred-over wound, all Cadenza saw was grey, wilted petals falling into Muriel’s lap and a wound that was barely scabbed-over. Her face fell. Muriel was in worse condition than she had originally thought… than she had prepared for, which meant that the flowers she had brought with her were not nearly enough to be of any real help. It was Cadenza’s turn to make a noise of frustration. Surely she couldn’t leave him here like this, and yet, what more could she do?

“Did it work?” Muriel asked quietly, nervously.

“No. It didn’t.” Cadenza cracked her knuckles and lifted her hands to Muriel’s wound once more. There was only one thing she could do, one more thing she could try. “But this will work. This has to work.”

“W-What are you doing?”

“Lending you some of my life-force.”

And that is precisely what Cadenza did. With a soft gasp, she allowed her magic to flow from her hands and into Muriel, allowing it to transport some of her life-force along with it. A faint glow emanated from the palms of her hands and cast ghostly shadows across her face and Muriel’s as she persisted with the transfer. She could feel herself growing weaker, sleepier with every passing second, but she didn’t stop until she saw Muriel’s wound close, until it had scarred-over fully. When the wound could finally be considered healed, Cadenza interrupted the flow of her magic and life-force and practically collapsed onto her back. She would have landed on her back if not for how Muriel grasped her lightly by the arms in an attempt to keep her from hitting her head.

“Cadenza? _Cadenza?_ ” He shook her gently, tried to get her gaze to focus again. The young magician was pretty much unresponsive, but still appeared to be conscious. “Guards! Somebody!”

“Cadenza!”

An impeccably albeit somewhat eccentrically-dressed woman with auburn hair and jade-green eyes appeared in the entryway of Muriel’s cell. She was accompanied by two plainly dressed individuals with pink feathers pinned to the collars of their jackets and it was obvious by the way that she rushed into the cell without a second thought to collect Cadenza in her arms that she knew the young magician well. Muriel didn’t even really realize that Cadenza had been taken from his arms because his attention was suddenly drawn and fixed on a fluffy-haired figure who lingered just outside his cell who was all too familiar to him.

“Asra?” he called out hesitantly and when the fluffy-haired figure looked directly at him, eyes flashing violet, his heart leapt into his throat. “Asra, what are you doing here?” He glanced at Cadenza. “Do you know her?”

Asra opened his mouth as if to answer, but the woman holding Cadenza in her arms interjected before he could say anything. “Why was Cadenza here? Who sent her to you?”

“I don’t know, she didn’t say. Is she-”

“She’ll be fine. I think that she’s just exerted herself. Headstrong girl!” The woman tapped Cadenza’s cheek and observed the way her eyes rolled slightly. “ _Enzina, chi è che ti ha mandato a vedere costui? Che cosa hai fatto?_ ”

“ _Mm, lasciami stare, zia,_ ” Cadenza muttered. “ _Non mi sento molto bene._ ”

And with that, the young magician turned her head and vomited onto the cell’s dirt floor. Muriel cringed and pressed his lips together when he felt some of the sick splash onto his legs. The woman, who Cadenza had referred to as “ _zia_ ” tried to haul her to feet only to find that she wasn’t strong enough to support the apparent dead weight that was the young magician in the process of slipping in and out of consciousness. She glanced over her shoulder at Asra, who was standing in place looking absolutely petrified.

“Asra, we need to get her back to the shop. _Now_.”

Asra shook his head, as if breaking free from a spell. “O-Okay.” Even as he spoke and moved to help the woman with Cadenza, his gaze remained fixed on Muriel.

“Do you have a good grip on her?”

“I’ve got her, Nevra.”

“In that case, we need to get out of here before we draw any more attention to ourselves as we did coming in here.” Nevra, presumably, turned her gaze on Muriel at that point. “Speak of this to no one—no one, do you understand me?”

“Yes. I understand.” Muriel fell silent and watched with sad eyes as Asra and Nevra shuffled out of his cell with Cadenza between them. “Please thank her. When she wakes up. And Asra-”

“I’m handling things, Muriel. I promise that I am.” Asra’s gaze was determined, his eyes had a renewed fire in them. “I’ll get you out of here eventually, I swear on my life that I will.”

Before Muriel could say anything else, the cell door slammed shut with a metallic _clang_ that reverberated through the underground. Everyone disappeared from view moments later and Muriel was alone once more. The next thing he knew, tears were springing to his eyes—tears whose cause he didn’t even know how to begin to pinpoint. Was it the kindness that Cadenza had shown him? The fierce protectiveness that he had seen from the woman that Asra had referred to as Nevra in response to Cadenza being in need? Was it seeing Asra? The promise he had uttered before leaving? Muriel didn’t know. His heart ached in his chest, but the tears that spilled down his cheeks and splashed onto his chest no longer burned as all of his wounds—major and minor—had closed thanks to the young animancer who had shown up with no explanations.


	17. Never Let Me Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cadenza, delirious and exhausted after healing Muriel’s wounds, has a difficult conversation with Asra about something she thinks she heard him say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning(s): brief mention of vomit.

Cadenza woke up with a start. She had been having the most intense dream… a dream that she could no longer remember, but that had left a haunting impression on her nonetheless. She blinked her eyes slowly—her eyes, much like her throat, were so dry that they actually hurt. _Water_. She needed water. Both to drink and to rinse her face with. Cadenza tried to will herself to sit up only to find that her body was entirely uncooperative. She felt completely and utterly exhausted. As if she had been running for hours or… or drawing on her own life-force to heal Muriel’s wound. Suddenly, Cadenza recalled the events leading up to her losing consciousness.

Given that her body refused to move, Cadenza did her best to look around while lying on her back. This was no easy task given how dark it was—she guessed that it must be nighttime. The ceiling, at least, looked familiar. The blanket that was tucked under her chin also looked and _felt_ familiar. Most telling of all, however, was the fact that Asra was lying just a few feet away from her on his sleeping mat on the opposite side of the room. This meant, of course, that she had somehow made it back to the shop after what had happened back at the Coliseum.

“Asra,” Cadenza croaked. “Asra, are you awake?”

A long silence followed the raven-haired magician’s quiet, scratchy-voiced question and she was just about to resign herself to the fact that Asra was deeply asleep when he answered: “I’m awake.” He propped himself up on one elbow. His fluffy white hair was a complete and utter mess. “Do you need to throw up again?”

“I vomited? Hm, I guess that explains why my mouth feels disgusting.”

“What do you need, Enza?”

“Could you get me some water, please? I can’t get up.”

“Can’t? Or don’t want to?”

“The former.”

Another long stretch of silence ensued in which all Cadenza could do was lie completely still on her sleeping mat, still unable to move a muscle. Finally, Asra sighed and sat up, scrubbing his hands over his face before climbing to his feet. He padded across the wooden floorboards on bare feet and out of their shared room into the bathroom that was just across the hallway. She heard him turn on the tap, fill the glass that sat by the sink, and turn off the tap. He reappeared moments later and closed their door carefully before making his way over to Cadenza—crossing his legs beneath him as he sat down beside her.

“Can you hold the glass yourself or do you need my help for that, too?”

Cadenza chewed her bottom lip. She wasn’t sure whether she would actually be able to lift her arms. “I’m worried that I’ll spill the water all over myself.”

“Okay, I’ll help you, then. Open your mouth and try to tilt your head forward a little, please.”

Cadenza did as she was told and Asra slipped a hand under her head, cradling and supporting it as he guided the glass to her lips. The raven-haired magician’s eyelids fluttered shut as she drank, the ice-cold water did wonders in terms of soothing her sore throat. Some of the water inevitably dribbled out of the corners of her mouth, of course, and when Asra set the now-empty glass aside, he absentmindedly wiped at the stray droplets of water with his thumb. He only seemed to catch himself when he caught Cadenza giving him an odd look and he quickly withdrew his touch.

“Sorry,” he murmured, clearly embarrassed.

“Thank you for the drink of water,” Cadenza replied, already moving on. She cleared her throat. “Before I let you go back to bed, though, I have to ask… how did you and Zia Nevra find me today?”

“Oh, um, when your aunt got back to the shop from the Palace, she accidentally grabbed the cup of tea that you left behind when she went to pour herself a cup and, well, she read your tea leaves. She was pretty angry, actually, I think you have a talk coming your way when you’re feeling better.”

“Of course that’s how she found out. I should have been more careful.”

“If you had been more careful, we wouldn’t have been able to find you. And then who knows what would have happened?” Asra shook his head. “Enza, you were in bad shape when we found you. Who other than us could have helped you?”

“I didn’t think that I _would_ need help.”

“Well, you did.”

Asra folded his arms across his chest and looked away. It was clear that he was trying to downplay his emotions—something at which he was currently failing given that Cadenza could tell he was upset. His lips were quivering, he kept balling his hands up into fists and relaxing his fingers, and his eyes were shimmering, wet with unshed tears. Had Cadenza’s secret excursion to the Coliseum and the state in which he had found her really frightened him that much? Was this reaction of his warranted? Or was there something more to it? Cadenza vaguely recalled an exchange between Asra and Muriel while she was drifting in and out of consciousness. Could that be what’s bothering him?

“You said something to Muriel when we were leaving—something about you ‘handling things.’ You made a promise to him.”

In an instant, Asra’s body language changed. His shoulders stiffened and he stopped fidgeting entirely. He was eerily still, caught staring absently off into the distance for several beats before he managed to look at Cadenza. “You… remember that?”

“Vaguely,” Cadenza admitted. “What was all that about? It seemed like you two knew each other.”

Just like that, Asra was back to fidgeting. He looked to the window, gazed out of it with sadness in his expression. He sighed. “Muriel and I _do_ know each other. Can I trust you to keep this quiet?” He asked softly and when Cadenza nodded, he carried on. “We’re best friends. _Were_ best friends? I’ve barely been able to see him for the past nine years or so… I don’t know whether our friendship as it existed before even counts as friendship now.”

“What happened?”

Asra’s jaw clenched and his hands curled into fists. “He was taken away—forced to fight in the Coliseum. Gods, I was about ten years old when it happened. He was only fifteen.” He inhaled and exhaled shakily. “For years, I beat myself up over how little a fight I was able to put up when they took him away. Ever since I turned fifteen, myself, I’ve been setting aside money in the hopes of freeing him, but… nothing I’ve given or done has been enough so far.”

Cadenza was quiet when tears started to trickle from the corners of Asra’s eyes and down his cheeks. His breathing was ragged, laboured, and she knew that he was trying his best not to break out into full sobs. Something about seeing Asra in so much emotional pain made Cadenza’s heart ache in her chest. If she had been able to move, she was overwhelmed by the feeling that she would have put her arms around him and hugged him close. But Cadenza couldn’t move in that moment, she couldn’t comfort him in the quiet way she wanted to comfort him. She would have to try to use her words. And try, she did.

“Asra,” she said in as soft a tone of voice as she could manage. “You are not alone. You don’t have to bear this alone anymore.”

“I promised him,” Asra sobbed, shaking his head. “I promised that I would save him and I’m no closer to saving him than I was when I was ten.”

“All these years, you have been trying to save him on your own. Asra, listen to me: you are not alone anymore. You are allowed to ask for help.” If Cadenza had the energy to move her arms, she was sure that she would have touched the side of his face, then. “I am your friend, I want to help you. All you need to do is ask.”

“I can’t ask you to do that. I just… I can’t.”

“Okay, but I am here for you. Right now. Don’t go back to your sleeping mat just to cry alone—I think you’ve cried alone more than enough times in your life. You can lie down next to me, if you want. And I can be here for you quietly while you cry, and make it so that you feel a little less alone.”

Asra wiped at his eyes and bit his lip, stifling another sob. “Enza… I can’t ask that of you.”

“You don’t have to ask.” Cadenza met Asra’s shimmering violet eyes. “I’m telling you.”

For a few moments, Asra appeared torn. He looked between his sleeping mat and Cadenza, who was gazing up at him with such an earnest expression, with such honest concern in her sleepy, gold-flecked eyes. With nothing more than a subdued sniffle, Asra slipped under Cadenza’s warm, heavy blankets. He came to rest on his back, careful to maintain a gap between himself and his friend on the mat, but she shot him a look and wordlessly beckoned him closer. And closer. And closer, still, until he was pressed right up against her side with his chin lightly brushing against the top of her shoulder, his nose buried in her curls, and one arm draped comfortably across her midsection.

Even though he knew he shouldn’t have accepted Cadenza’s offer, even though he knew he should be keeping his distance, Asra lost himself in the smell of her and in the way that her body felt lying alongside him. He closed his eyes from which the occasional tears were still escaping and listened to the steady sounds of Cadenza’s breathing, the way her breaths got deeper and deeper as she drifted off to sleep. His breathing changed as well, grew calmer as he focused on Cadenza. Even though sleep claimed her first, Asra did not feel as though he was alone. When he, too, drifted off, he did so knowing that he would soon have to wake himself up and make it so that there would be no sign of him when Cadenza woke up the next morning. Otherwise… he didn’t know how he was meant to carry on.


	18. June

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cadenza and Asra take time off from minding the shop in order to celebrate his birthday.

Days went by and neither Asra nor Cadenza brought up the night that they had slept alongside each other after the former had made a tearful confession about how his best friend had been taken from him and how he had felt so helpless to do anything. That being said, the memory was fresh in both of their minds. The only reason it went unaddressed was because neither magician knew how to address each other in the light of day about a shared, intense experience in the dark. Cadenza would be the first to acknowledge that she was somewhat emotionally constipated, and Asra… well, he had no idea where to begin when it came to talking about his feelings. Carrying on as if nothing had happened was just easier.

The thirteenth of June rolled around before either of them knew it, and while Cadenza treated it like any other day, Asra was trying his very best to play things cool despite the fact that Faust had been in his ear since he woke up—insistently reminding him that it was their shared birthday. Even now, as he sat at the table in the kitchen drinking his daily, bitter _caffè latte_ , he was subtly clutching his head as Faust curled more tightly around his shoulders and repeatedly asked him when it was that she would be getting her birthday treats.

“Asra, are you all right?” Cadenza asked, setting aside the spoon she had used to stir her _caffè latte_ with a muted _clink_.

“Mhm. Perfectly fine.”

 _Liar!_ Faust shot back, slithering down his arm to coil around Cadenza’s wrist. The raven-haired magician raised the lavender ball python so that they were eye-level with each other. _My birthday today! Asra’s birthday today!_

Cadenza focused intently on Faust. She had been getting better at understanding Asra’s familiar, but most of what she said still failed to reach her mind. This time, however, she had managed to pick up on a significant word. “Birthday?” she repeated. “Whose birthday is it?”

Faust flicked her tongue out at Asra and gave Cadenza a meaningful look.

“You mean to tell me that it’s Asra’s birthday today?”

_And mine!_

“And hers,” Asra finally admitted.

Cadenza lowered her arm back down to the table, allowing Faust to slither off of it safely and to coil around her warm cup. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Asra felt his cheeks heat and he looked down at his hands. “I don’t know. It just… didn’t seem significant. I was going to say something. _Eventually_.”

Cadenza raised an eyebrow and leaned forward in her seat. “Were you?”

“No, probably not.”

It appeared as though the two young magicians were at an impasse. Asra didn’t know what else he was meant to say, whether he was supposed to add anything. And Cadenza… Cadenza hadn’t celebrated a birthday in such a long time that she was really uncertain of what she was meant to do now that she knew it was Asra’s birthday. Surely she couldn’t just move on as if nothing had been said at all? Although that sort of was her modus operandi. No. In that moment of silence that stretched between Cadenza and Asra, the former determined that something had to be done to celebrate.

“I’m sure that Zia Nevra won’t mind if we close the shop for one day. Let’s go get some fresh treats from Selasi’s bakery and see what else we can do to celebrate your birthday from there.”

“I, um, I didn’t say anything about my birthday because I didn’t want you to feel pressured to do something, Enza.” Asra ran both of his hands through his hair, ruffling it thoroughly. “It’s okay, really, we can just pretend like it’s any other day.”

“Now that I know, it’s too late for me to pretend that today is like any other. Besides, we’re friends. Celebrating a birthday… is that not something that friends do together?”

“I mean, yes, but-”

“All right, then, let’s go.”

There was really no point in attempting to argue with Cadenza once she had set her mind to something, and all Asra could do was stand back while she cleaned up the remnants of their breakfast. After rinsing and drying their cups which had contained warm _caffè latte_ mere moments ago, Cadenza grabbed Asra by the hand and practically raced down the steps with him in tow; nearly causing them to tumble down the remaining steps when the carpet on the landing slipped slightly beneath their feet.

Asra had barely managed to shove his feet into his shoes—which had been waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, as usual—before Cadenza was tugging him out the front door of the shop and into the chill of the street. The moment their feet hit the cobblestones, Cadenza firmly interlocked her arm with Asra’s, as if she was afraid that he would run off if she wasn’t careful. Even as she guided him down the street, looking every bit like a woman on a mission, Asra couldn’t help smiling. It was rare to see Cadenza this excited about something. Maybe, just maybe, celebrating his birthday wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

The pair of young magicians reached Selasi’s bakery in no time at all. It wasn’t that far from where the shop was located, after all, and at the pace Cadenza had set walking, it was no surprise that they arrived even more swiftly than they would have if they had taken Asra’s typical calm, meandering route. They could smell fresh bread, cinnamon, and caramelized sugar all the way down the street, but now that they stood on the bakery’s steps, waiting for their turn to set foot inside, well, Asra was glad that Cadenza had gotten them there so quickly. His mouth was already watering and the line behind them was growing longer.

“Good morning, Asra! And _buongiorno_ , Cadenza!” Selasi greeted the two magicians enthusiastically when it was finally their turn up at the counter. “What would you like to buy today? Are you out of breakfast cookies already?”

Cadenza nudged Asra. “Are you going to tell him or am I going to have to do it?”

Selasi raised an eyebrow and looked between the two magicians with a curious expression. “Tell me what?”

Asra looked down at the floor, embarrassed by the attention. “It’s my birthday today, and, uhh, Cadenza is very intent on having me celebrate it.”

“Your birthday? No kidding!” Selasi reached over the counter to ruffle Asra’s fluffy white hair. “How old are you turning?”

“Nineteen.”

“Wow, you’re all grown up. Happy birthday, Asra.” Selasi practically beamed. “So, my earlier question still stands: what can I get you on this very special day?”

“Actually, I was wondering what kind treat you would recommend for celebrating a birthday,” Cadenza said. “Since Asra has given no indications whatsoever as to what it is that he would like to eat.”

“Well, usually people have cake when they celebrate a birthday. But it’s not like there are any set rules about what you can and can’t eat—it’s really up to the person celebrating and their preferences.”

Both Selasi and Cadenza looked at Asra. “Cake sounds good. But it’s kind of messy, isn’t it? And I think the plan was to take your baking to go.”

“Hmm, in that case… there’s this recipe that I’ve been playing around with recently and my husband really enjoys it, but I’ve been hesitant about letting people other than him try it because it looks a bit… odd and over the top.”

That caught Asra’s attention and he perked up noticeably beside Cadenza. “What is it?”

“I’m still playing around with the name, but I’ve been calling it funfetti banana bread in my head. Although, it’s not exactly a bread-like baked good, it’s heavier, like pound cake. Are you interested?”

Asra nodded enthusiastically. “It sounds fun. Yeah, I’m interested.”

“You know what? I’ve got half a loaf of it sitting in my kitchen upstairs and I’ll give it to you, free of charge in honour of your birthday and if you come back tomorrow to let me know what you thought of it.” Selasi chuckled. “My husband will be disappointed to see that it’s gone when he gets home from work, but I can always make more.”

“Oh, that’s…,” Asra trailed off, feeling his cheeks heat. “That’s very generous of you. Thank you.”

Cadenza smiled at Selasi. It was brief, but it reached her eyes and made them twinkle slightly. “Yes, thank you very much.”

“Of course.” Selasi tapped his hands on top of the counter and backed away, moving toward the stairs in the back corner. He winked at the two magicians. “I’ll be right back with half a loaf of funfetti banana bread.”

Surely enough, Selasi returned moments later with a hastily-wrapped loaf of funfetti banana bread… whatever it was. He handed it to Cadenza with a cheeky grin aimed at Asra and a comment about how it should be a surprise until they found a nice place to settle down and sample the treat at their leisure. Asra smiled in turn—despite their limited interactions, it was funny that Selasi knew that he wouldn’t have been able to resist taking a peek if the package had been handed to him rather than Cadenza.

After one more round of profuse thanks for the free treat, the two young magicians left the bakery, both of them shivering slightly when they stepped out into the almost-wintry air. Cadenza tucked the loaf under her arm and rubbed her hands together in an attempt to warm them. Asra pointedly shoved his hands into his pockets after the thought crossed his mind to take Cadenza’s hand in his and warm it, himself. The pair looked at each other at almost the exact same time, prompting Asra to look away quickly as his blush spread up to his ears.

“Where do you want to go to enjoy your funfetti-” Cadenza made a face. She did not like how that word sounded coming out of her mouth. “Where do you want to enjoy your birthday treat?”

Asra thought that it was sweet that Cadenza was asking him where he wanted to go since he knew that she could have just as easily directed him somewhere—and it would have been very like her to do that, too. He only needed a few moments to ponder her question. “How about the Hanging Gardens?”

“Your favourite place.” Cadenza nodded, smiling faintly as she thought back to the first time she had seen the Hanging Gardens with Asra. “Of course.”

In agreement with respect to their celebratory destination, the two fluffy-haired magicians set out for the Hanging Gardens. The topics of conversation that they brought up as they walked were always easy. They didn’t discuss anything that took too much thought, too much introspection. It was better that way. They had stumbled into too many deep conversations in the past—conversations that had always felt awkward afterward and that left them feeling distinctly uncertain about their dynamic. Although neither of them would admit to the confusing feelings that those conversations stirred up inside of them.

Once again, thanks to Cadenza, they reached the Hanging Gardens fairly quickly. With some careful maneuvering, they were able to seat themselves comfortably on the balustrade, their feet dangling over the almost crystalline water of the canal below them—the arrival of winter in Vesuvia meant that the water was colder and that people were less likely to take a trip on a gondola, something that resulted in calm, undisturbed waters. Cadenza did her best to keep her feet still as she drank in the sight of the Hanging Gardens alongside Asra.

“The flowers are still in bloom,” she remarked, breaking the silence between them.

“I’m pretty sure that they’re enchanted. I’ve never seen them wilt.”

“Huh. There must be a great deal of magically gifted florists and arborists in Vesuvia to maintain such a thing.”

“Must be.” After a few moments, Asra nudged Cadenza’s shoulder gently, looked pointedly at the still-wrapped loaf of funfetti banana bread in her lap. “Care to share? It _is_ my birthday.”

Cadenza nudged Asra right back. “Earlier you didn’t even want to admit it.”

“I know, I know, but I’ll admit that I’m very curious to try this funfetti banana bread.”

“So am I—I just hope that I’ll be able to taste it.”

Careful as ever, Cadenza unwrapped the treat gifted to them by Selasi. Asra leaned in closer, his chin nearly resting on her shoulder. Neither of them could believe their eyes. The loaf was slightly glazed and covered in brightly coloured sprinkles—sprinkles which also dotted the inside and had evidently melted when they had been baked to create an unusual colourful pattern that was visible when the treat was sliced. Neither of them had had any idea what funfetti was when Selasi had spoken the word but somehow… somehow what they saw lived up to their expectations of what it could have meant.

“Wow.”

“Wow is right.” Cadenza lifted the loaf to inspect it more closely. “Have you seen anything like this before?”

“No, I can’t say that I have.” Asra swiped at a bit of the glaze with his pinkie finger and sucked on it. “Did you bring a knife to cut it?”

“No.” Cadenza’s shoulders sank slightly. “No, I did not.”

“That’s okay, I guess we’ll just have to….” Asra plucked the loaf from Cadenza’s lap, gripped both ends of it firmly, and slowly ripped it in half so that he was left with a sizeable chunk of the treat in either of his hands. He handed one chunk to Cadenza. “… _Improvise_.”

Cadenza rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “Thank you, Mx. Improvise-Adapt-Overcome.”

“Ugh, I made that joke one time, and I regret it.”

“If you’re wanting me to forget it, you’re too late: I have already added it to my very limited repertoire of humour.”

Asra laughed and raised his chunk of funfetti banana bread to bump it against Cadenza’s. “Cheers. Happy birthday to me, I guess.”

“Happy birthday to you.”

With that, the two magicians bit into the funfetti banana bread at the exact same time. They were both quiet, chewing thoughtfully as they tried to figure out how they felt about the new treat. It was quite obviously a banana bread, but the glaze on top of it made it all the more sweet and moist. The funfetti added a fun crunch to it, but didn’t really add to the overall flavour. It was definitely more decorative. After a few more moments of silent chewing, Asra swallowed his first bite and took another. Cadenza was still working on her first bite when he did. She pursed her lips together.

“I hate to say it, but I can barely taste this.”

Asra hurriedly swallowed his second bite. “Oh, no! I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize. I’m thankful for the sprinkles. They make the texture more interesting for me.”

“I wish there was a way for you to taste this like I can taste it.”

“Does that mean you like this unusually colourful banana bread?”

“I really do—Selasi is going to get my seal of approval tomorrow when we swing by for more breakfast cookies.”

Cadenza smiled. “Well, I’m very pleased to hear that you like your birthday treat.”

The two magicians slowly worked on their funfetti banana bread over the course of more light conversation. They talked about how Faust was expecting to be given the option between a soft boiled egg and a mouse as her birthday treat when they got back, not to mention a round of birthday kisses and squeezes. They talked about how Zia Nevra had found out that all of Cadenza’s cards said ‘Drink tea, eat soup, and rejoice!’ on the back and how they were going to have to talk her out of going to give the magician who had enchanted them a piece of her mind. They talked about how the stove salamander was probably jealous that they were buying baked goods from Selasi so often as opposed to baking things themselves.

As they talked, Asra couldn’t help staring at Cadenza. The way her lips moved as she formed words. The way creases appeared on her forehead and at the corners of her eyes whenever she raised her eyebrows or smiled. The way she occasionally paused to worry her bottom lip between her teeth as she considered something. The sun was slinking lower in the sky, and its warm rays illuminated the gold flecks in her brown eyes. She was beautiful and so… animated in a way that she didn’t often show. She was full of life and energy, and Asra couldn’t help admiring her, slowly leaning toward her as he did.

In the meantime, Cadenza had noticed something shift in Asra’s violet gaze. His pupils had dilated, his lips were slightly parted, and although he was looking at her intently, there was something somewhat absent in his expression—as if his thoughts were far, far away. Cadenza was suddenly aware that her heart had started beating faster in her chest, she could hear her thundering heartbeat in her ears. A frantic rhythm. But it wasn’t a feeling that was born out of fear, no. She wasn’t even really certain that she could call it nerves. She wished that she could pull her cards out now, but something was keeping her from doing so.

“Asra,” she said softly, prompting him to drag his thoughts back to the present, “what are you doing?”

“I was just….” Asra leaned in closer, close enough that his breath ghosted across Cadenza’s lips. He observed her eyes widen as he looked at her though his white lashes. Although she didn’t pull away, the flicker of confusion in her expression prompted him to pull away instead. “I got lost in thought, sorry.”

Cadenza pressed her lips together and kicked her feet. She had felt a feeling of loss when Asra pulled away. She couldn’t explain it. “Your thoughts. What were they?”

“Oh, um.” Asra looked up at the sky. “I was thinking that we should probably start heading back to the shop. Faust is probably impatiently waiting for her treats. And your aunt will probably be getting back soon, too, and we didn’t exactly leave a note. She worries about us, you know.”

“I know,” Cadenza sighed. Although she couldn’t exactly remember what her aunt’s reaction had been to finding her at the Coliseum, she could remember the dressing-down that she had received once she regained full consciousness. “I suppose we should go.”

“Yup,” Asra said, popping the “p” slightly. He seemed eager to get moving and practically scrambled off the balustrade. He looked to Cadenza, helped her climb down. “Thank you for today. For celebrating my birthday with me. It’s been… the last several have been pretty lonely.”

“Of course. Happy birthday, Asra.”

Cadenza smiled softly at her friend, and before she knew what she was doing, she was reaching out to brush a soft curl from his eyes. Then, she leaned in to kiss both of his cheeks, her lips just brushing against the corners of his mouth. Asra froze, his eyes widened slightly, and Cadenza only managed to observe his reaction with curiosity for a few seconds before he laughed somewhat nervously; taking a step back.

When they fell into step next to each other, Cadenza moved her hand to hold his only to find that he had buried his hands deep in his pockets. The raven-haired magician frowned but said nothing. Rather, she waited a few beats and then asked Asra a question about something of no consequence. Something light, something easy. Something that didn’t require too much thinking.


	19. Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Asra yearns for Cadenza.

It was shaping up to be another sleepless night for Asra.

The young, fluffy-haired magician had been tossing and turning for what had probably only been the past hour, but that had felt like an eternity to him. He was currently lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling and doing everything in his power to keep the thoughts he had tried so hard to push to the recesses of his mind at bay. This, however, was turning out to be more difficult than he had anticipated given that the person he was trying to hard to keep off his mind was lying just a few feet away from him—her soft breaths and occasional snore punctuating the heavy silence.

Asra rolled onto his side, and before he could stop himself, his amethyst gaze found Cadenza in the semi-darkness of the room he shared with her. She was cocooned inside layers and layers of blankets to the point that only her face was showing, and the pale, silvery moonlight that streamed in through the window was like a spotlight whose sole purpose was to illuminate her sleeping visage. The raven-haired magician’s expression was one of pure peace and complete relaxation—all traces of the frown she typically wore were gone. Seeing Cadenza like that… Asra’s breath hitched. He felt like he was seeing her in a way that was too private, too intimate. He knew that he shouldn’t stare.

After all, Cadenza was Asra’s friend, and sometimes even his teacher when it came to the topic of animancy. But something deep down told Asra that neither “friend” nor “teacher” were the right words to describe how he actually felt about her. He didn’t just want to learn from her, he wanted to admire the life-giving magic that flowed from her fingertips into whomever or whatever she touched and he always wanted to draw attention to the wondrous nature of her work—even if she was just helping an herb that was struggling to grow with an animantic boost. He wanted to look at her, listen to her, be close to her in any way that he could. He longed to be with her, to have her fully embrace his presence and welcome him into the little world that she seemed to live in when she was entirely focused on a task.

Gods, Asra wondered what it was like in Cadenza’s mind when she played the violin.

It was the only time other than when she was sleeping that he had glimpsed that expression of pure peace written all over her face. And while she usually seemed to operate in a world of her own, it was only when she was playing the violin that she seemed to be transported to another plane of existence entirely. The way she moved and swayed with the ebb and flow of the music reminded Asra of when he had danced with her at the Masquerade, when she had released the tension in her body and allowed herself to move in harmony with him. He felt his breath catch in his chest for a moment when he realized that he had once been the one to have a strong effect on Cadenza. He only wished that he could make it happen again.

Despite all of the times that she had caught Asra staring, how he gazed at her as if he wanted to hold onto her every word when she spoke, and all the times he had gone red in the face at the simplest of her touches, Cadenza seemed blissfully unaware of the effect that she had on him. It was both intoxicating and maddening—intoxicating because Asra craved the satisfaction of seeing the look in her gold-flecked eyes when she finally noticed and maddening because until then, he had neither the words nor the courage to try and put the way that he felt about her into words.

As his gaze wandered their shared room, Asra tried not to think about the day that he had come so close—so very close—to kissing her. Seeing her silhouetted against the bright blue sky, her lips slightly stained by the sprinkles in the funfetti banana bread that they had eaten, and hearing that bright, musical lilt in her voice as she spoke animatedly to him about one thing or another… it all came together and made him want to seal his lips to hers so badly. But he didn’t. He had been close enough to count the individual freckles that dotted the bridge of her nose, but he had pulled away. Uncertain, as always.

And then, when she stood, brushed a stray curl out of the way in a gesture that had made his heart soar, _she_ had kissed _him_. Well, she had kissed his cheeks, technically, but _still_. He had felt her bottom lip press lightly against the corners of his mouth, felt her warm breath against his skin, felt her eyelashes flutter against his temple. His heart had skipped a beat in his chest in answer, and if he had been weaker, he knew that he would have wound his fingers through her curls; drawing her back in to kiss her fully. He wondered whether she would have tasted like the funfetti banana bread they had just eaten, whether she would have reached up to wind her own fingers through his curls as she deepened the kiss.

Asra sighed softly—a noise full of longing. He turned the memory over a few more times in his mind, replaying what had happened and what could have been until guilt twisted in his gut. He glanced wistfully over at Cadenza, who was still sleeping peacefully, and the knife of guilt twisted deeper. The young magician kicked off his blankets and climbed to his feet. After casting one last look full of longing over his shoulder, he made his way to the kitchen as quietly as he could; navigating through the darkness mostly by touch. He was also careful to avoid the floorboards that he had come to notice creaked under pressure during his time living there.

When he reached the kitchen, he summoned a hazy orb of light and used the faint illumination to find everything he needed to brew himself the most soothing tea that he could think of: chamomile. He hoped that it would help take his mind off the insistent itch at the back of his mind at the mere thought of Cadenza. Rationally, he knew that tea couldn’t solve all of his problems, but what other option did he have? He stared off into space, fighting against his thoughts, as the stove salamander stirred awake and groggily tried to spit up the sparks needed to start the fire.

“Asra?”

The voice was soft, thick with sleep, and almost breathy, and its source was somewhere in the darkness at Asra’s back. He froze at the sound of it, nearly dropping the teapot, and turned slowly in the direction of the voice to find Cadenza leaning against the doorframe. Her hair was even wilder than usual, the shadowy outline of her body was visible beneath the nightgown she wore that came down to her mid-thighs, and her expression was still sleepy and peaceful. She was the last thing that Asra needed and the only thing thing he needed at the same time, and his grip on the handle of the teapot tightened in answer to the sight of her.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Asra said once he finally found his voice.

Cadenza walked toward him, a slight sway in her step, and practically draped herself around him. She rested her chin resting on his shoulder as she peered down to see what he was doing. “Preparing some tea?”

“Yes.” Asra’s throat was tight. “Chamomile.”

“Hmm.” It was a soft sound that came from deep in Cadenza’s chest and what she didn’t realize was that Asra felt it, too. “Could you pour me some as well?”

Asra’s eyes fluttered shut and for a moment, he allowed himself to imagine what it would be like if the rest of his life was like this: all gentle touches and whispered words meant only for him from Cadenza. Another muted sigh slipped past his lips and he reopened his eyes, turning his head slightly so that the side of his face brushed against her lips. “Of course, Enza.”


	20. I'm Not Calling You a Liar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the contents of The Forge are revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning(s): death, demons, and blanket necromantic fuckery.

It was a little bit past one in the afternoon. The shop was closed and it would continue to be closed until three in the afternoon. Zia Nevra was at the Palace and Asra was… _somewhere_ , but not _there_. Cadenza was completely alone, something that she had experienced rarely since Asra had moved in. She tapped her feet against the carpet underneath the large wooden desk behind which she sat, she drummed her fingers against the sturdy surface. She glanced in the direction of the black chest inside of which she had stored _The Forge_ —the leather-bound journal that Quaestor Valdemar had given her.

Since she had received it, Cadenza had had so few chances to study the contents of _The Forge_. She had always been interrupted by either Zia Nevra or Asra, sometimes even a customer who was a little too anxious to see one of the magicians and who just would not quit knocking on the door. But now that Cadenza was alone, now that she was fairly certain that she wouldn’t be interrupted (at least not for a while), she found herself hesitating.

She was fairly certain that she couldn’t trust the Quaestor, but they had been so earnest in offering her the journal—as if she would find it helpful and enlightening if only she gave it a chance. She _could_ simply destroy it, that way she wouldn’t have to think about it anymore or have to question whether she should or shouldn’t study its contents. Although Cadenza wasn’t sure about how she felt, she did feel very strongly that she wouldn’t be able to follow through with the destruction of _The Forge_ , no matter how many times she made the suggestion to do so to herself.

No matter how vehemently she tried to deny it, Cadenza felt the call of _The Forge_ as an insistent whisper in the back of her mind. Sometimes its call was so strong, so unrelenting that Cadenza would wake in the middle of the night just to sit in front of the locked black chest and stare like she could will it to be quiet. She couldn’t ignore it forever. She couldn’t ignore it _now_. Cadenza drummed her fingers more insistently against the desk, her legs bounced as she tapped her feet in a more frantic rhythm. Her vision tunnelled until all she could see was the black chest in the corner.

“ _Dai, Cadenza, dai,_ ” she muttered to herself under her breath. “ _Scegli_.”

As Cadenza’s focus narrowed, the scratchy whispers at the back of her mind grew until they were almost a shout that drowned out everything else. More frustrated than determined, the raven-haired magician finally shot to her feet and made her way over to the black chest, all the while mumbling bitter words in Venterrean as she dug around in her pockets for the key that would unlock it. She dropped to her knees in front of it, wincing slightly at the contact with the hardwood floor, and fitted the key in the lock.

The lid of the chest sprang open and a strange feeling of peace settled over Cadenza. She reached out to press her hand to the leather cover of the journal, traced the embossed words with her fingertips. She exhaled slowly, wrapped her fingers around the edges of the journal and lifted it from the chest; shutting it so that she wouldn’t be tempted to look at the other books that were stored inside of it. She walked back to the desk and settled into the plush chair, tucking her legs neatly beneath her. Once she was comfortable and after listening carefully for any sounds that would suggest that either Zia Nevra or Asra were returning, she started to read.

✧ ✧ ✧

_I have seen the public perception of necromantic magic shift from good to absolutely foul in my lifetime. What was once a respected art is now considered evil and its practitioners a stain on society. All because a few of those in our ranks became greedy, started to twist the uses of our magic in order to further their ambition._

_It was our sworn duty to make the passage from the realm of the living to the realm of the dead as peaceful and painless as possible, but now, people will not let us into their homes no matter how much their relatives who are on the brink of death are suffering._

_Not being able to practice my magic, to do my duty and honour my end of my pact with Death is something that pains me greatly. I fear that if these sentiments persist, if some necromancers continue to abuse their power, that all of the knowledge that we have made use of for centuries will be lost. Censored._

_Against my better judgement, I have paired up with someone who has shown me abundant proof that they are affiliated with Death, themselves. Someone who can easily travel between our realms without expending nearly as much energy as myself or others who have decided to work with them._

_I, along with many others, believe that Death has the answers that we seek. The answer to the question of how we can neutralize threats that come from those like us. The answer to the question of how we can prevent people from misusing necromantic magic._

_Death is elusive, but this individual that we have teamed with says that they can gain access to them for us. I just hope that we will all be able to return to our practices and pass our knowledge on to the next generation of necromancers._

**Morgana**

✧ ✧ ✧

_The thing about visiting the Arcane Realms is that you never realize how great the price that you must pay to do so is until it’s too late._

_I was overeager, curious, and I received nothing but encouragement from my mentor—who is admittedly very familiar with travelling between the realms. I was too eager, too curious, received too much encouragement for my own good._

_On the one hand, I do understand so much more about necromancy. How our life-force is transmuted into death-force, and what the voyage from the realm of the living to the realm of the dead looks like. Everything is clearer in death. Our souls never truly die, but the fates that we meet differ based on what our transition into death looked like. What our states of mind were like when we passed. It all has an impact._

_My job as a necromancer is to ensure that everyone has an equal shot at a good fate by bringing them peace while they pass. Pain, anger, sadness, and other feelings such as those while one is in the process of passing from the realm of the living into the realm of the dead result in them being tethered to those emotions… something which eventually leads them to a less than pleasant fate._

_On the other hand, little by little, I noticed changes in my own emotions and physical senses. My senses of smell and taste were the first to be affected. Then, my eyesight. Finally, my hearing. And my emotions… I hate to admit it, but I don’t feel as strongly about things anymore. There are things that I know I should care about—how I use my magic, my future, the future of others if the magical art of necromancy is not restored to its former glory—but I struggle to do exactly that. To care._

_My mentor says that I gave too little and took too much, and I think that they’re right. I didn’t pay the proper the price for the knowledge that I’ve gleaned and I am paying for my ambition. But I don’t think that it was all for nothing. Hopefully, my experience as a human travelling between the realms will make it so that people do not repeat my mistakes. And I do hope that someone will take the things that I have learned and run with them. Someday._

**Ráven**

✧ ✧ ✧

_There are magicians out there who are calling themselves animancers. They insist that they are different from necromancers, but I think that we all know the truth. Or, at least, I hope that people will come to realize that these so-called “animancers” are nothing more than guilt-fuelled necromancers who are lying to themselves about the nature of their magic._

_“Animancy” is a smokescreen. Unlike full necromancers, they manipulate only one aspect of the soul: life-force. Necromancy manipulates both life-force and death-force, and necromancers, themselves, tread a thin line between the realm of the living and the realm of the dead. We are inherently balanced. Those who practice animancy are out of balance, and I am sure that they will have to pay a price for flouting the rules._

_It angers me to think that necromancy is something that must be practiced in the dark, that we necromancers cannot live out in the open or trust anyone other than those who are exactly like us, all while animancers can live so openly and do whatever they damn please. They don’t know what manipulating death-force feels like. If they did… I am sure that they would stop denying the full extent of their magic to themselves._

_The fact of the matter is that fully-realized necromancers will always be far more powerful than any animancer has fooled themselves into believing that they are. My mentor says that I am just scratching the surface of my potential and that I am capable of things that are unimaginable to the common person or animancer. I can reach into the realm of the dead, return wandering souls to their bodies, and resurrect them. I can heal mortal wounds. Or so my mentor tells me. And I am sure that I will learn much, much more._

**Victoire**

✧ ✧ ✧

_I can bring back more than the dead._

_I can use the dead to create something entirely new. Something powerful. Something more durable than its original canvas._

_This isn’t theory and neither is it myth._ _I have done this, myself—albeit under the supervision of my mentor and with the help of another like me._

_With necromancy, ambition, and determination, from death I can create demons._

_Not everyone is capable of this, of course, it takes a very special kind of soul for a necromancer to accomplish this feat, but those of us who have dedicated our lives to figuring out how to create demons are greater than Gods._

_This will be our legacy._

_One that will never be erased no matter how hard people try._

**Oleander**

✧ ✧ ✧

“Hey, I have pumpkin bread and a new blend of tea for us to try.”

Cadenza startled at the sound of Asra’s voice and snapped _The Forge_ shut, hiding the bloodstained pages she had just been frantically poring over. She hadn’t heard Asra come up the stairs or down the hallway, and she wondered how long he had been standing in the study’s doorway: brown paper bag tucked under his arm and looking at her curiously. She simultaneously felt freezing cold and sweaty all over, and her gut twisted uncomfortably. She felt absolutely awful for several reasons that she couldn’t quite pinpoint as her head swam, and of course, Asra noticed.

“Enza, are you feeling okay?”

“Get out,” she whimpered, too quietly to be heard.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Get out!” Cadenza shouted that time and Asra flinched. She felt genuinely bad raising her voice at him and she knew that she would have to apologize for that one later, but right now, she just needed him gone.

“Well,” Asra said, doing his best not to look too hurt, “let me know if you need a bucket or something.”

With that, he closed the door to the study with just enough force to let Cadenza know just how upset he was before stalking down the hallway to the kitchen and loudly moving things around as he searched for everything necessary to brew himself some tea, probably. Cadenza, on the other hand, slumped forward against the desk, pressing her cheek against the cool wooden surface. She was so overcome with emotion from what she had read in _The Forge_ that her body responded violently. She couldn’t even begin to extricate all of her feelings from each other and attempt to give them names, or even think of potential ways to cope with them.

No, there was one thing that Cadenza _could_ do and she gritted her teeth, determined to do it even as the room started to spin around her. She stood up on swaying legs, stumbled over to the black chest in the corner; nearly causing a bookshelf to topple over when she gripped a shelf to steady herself. She ended up collapsing directly on top of the chest and she winced, muffling a cry of pain by biting her bottom lip. She threw open the lid and tossed _The Forge_ inside so that she wouldn’t have to look at or touch it for one moment longer. She slammed the lid shut and locked the chest back up, tucking the key deep into one of her pockets.

The young magician had barely heaved a sigh of relief before she started to cry. Scratch that: she started to _sob_. She pressed her hands to her face, tried to muffle her apparent distress so that Asra wouldn’t hear, feel guilty, and show up to comfort her. He didn’t deserve to have his emotions toyed with like that, and fortunately, Cadenza was still lucid enough to realize the fact. She cried alone, received no comfort. She was used to it. She felt like it was what she deserved. What she had read in _The Forge_ had disturbed her, especially the last entry that she had managed to read.

She didn’t want what Oleander had detailed to be her legacy. She wished that she wasn’t at all capable of what they had described. But she knew better and Cadenza was nothing if not honest. She couldn’t lie, not even to herself. _The Forge_ had, indeed, been enlightening. Although not in any way that she could consider positive. She wished that she had never accepted the supposed gift from Quaestor Valdemar. She should have known better. She knew better, now. What she still didn’t know, however, was what in the world the Quaestor could possibly want from her. This only prompted Cadenza to cry harder, although that time she could recognize the emotion fuelling her: frustration. And a good dose of confusion.

It took Cadenza a while to collect herself enough that she could pick herself up off the floor, and when she did, the room still spun, but only slightly. She staggered to the door, turned the knob, and stumbled out into the hallway; leaning against the wall. She made her way down the hallway at a slow, shuffling pace, and wiped her eyes once more for good measure before entering the kitchen where Asra was sitting as still as a statue at the table with a cup of tea in his hands. There was a cup of tea on the table in front of the chair in which Cadenza typically sat. He said nothing when she sat down and traced the circumference of the teacup with a trembling fingertip, he just took another sip from his own cup and continued to stare at nothing.

“I’m sorry.” Cadenza exhaled shakily and Asra glanced at her. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way that I did. Shouted at you. It was wrong. Mean. I wanted to be alone and I should have just asked rather than doing what I did.”

He shrugged, but the movement was stiff. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.” Cadenza started to reach out like she wanted to touch his hand, but stopped herself. She tapped the tabletop with her knuckles instead. “It’s really not okay. Just because I feel as though I am not in control of my emotions at times, that doesn’t justify me taking them out on others.” She met Asra’s gaze. “I am sorry that I hurt you.”

Asra was quiet for an excruciatingly long stretch of time. Finally, he asked: “Are you… okay?”

Cadenza shook her head and drew back. She took a nervous sip of tea, her legs started to bounce under the table. “Let’s not.”

“All right.”

The two young magicians fell silent. They sipped their tea, looked around the kitchen, but otherwise avoided each other’s gaze. What else could they say to each other? What more could they do? Cadenza had no idea how Asra had taken to her apology, but she knew that she wasn’t entitled to overt forgiveness. Or forgiveness at all. No matter how much that thought unsettled her. Even after they had drained her tea, neither of them made any move to leave until the time came to reopen the shop—at which point Asra stood up, cleared away the afternoon tea, squeezed Cadenza’s shoulder as he passed, and went downstairs. All without a word.

Once Asra was gone, Cadenza stood up, left the kitchen, walked in the opposite direction, and went to lie down on her sleeping mat. Sleep didn’t claim her quickly, though. All she could think about was _The Forge_. It was whispering to her again. But now that she knew its contents, she felt a chill. How had things gone so wrong? How was it that things had taken such a dark turn in the realm of necromancy? She willed herself to go to sleep, to forget. Eventually, fortunately, sleep came to claim here, and Cadenza fell into a deep and fitful yet dreamless sleep.


	21. Make up Your Mind (Part I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cadenza and Asra head to the Palace in order to tackle business that they have been putting off.

It took Cadenza about a week to recover from the shock and horror that came from reading _The Forge,_ the journal given to her by Quaestor Valdemar, and by the end of that week she had decided that she would be returning to the Palace to confront them. After all, the young magician still didn’t know what the Quaestor wanted from them or what in the world was their endgame that supposedly included her. As she got ready for the day that lay ahead of her, she fluctuated between nerves and confidence.

Much to her surprise, Asra offered to accompany her to the Palace. Hell, he didn’t just offer to accompany her to the gates, he offered to escort her all the way inside. They hadn’t really spoken about what had happened that day that she had shouted at him beyond extending and accepting apologies. Things had pretty much returned to normal after that exchange, although Cadenza wondered whether Asra knew more about what had upset her than he was letting on.

Cadenza shook her head subtly as she walked alongside Asra through the streets, toward the Palace. She neither had the time nor the energy to play mental chess with herself. She needed to dedicate herself entirely to getting answers out of the Quaestor. Their words were as slippery as the eels that she had seen for the first time by the docks shortly after her arrival in Vesuvia and she knew that she would have to be careful while questioning them.

Between now and then, however, Cadenza needed something to keep her thoughts busy and she was pretty sure that she knew just the thing. Without missing a beat, she glanced over at Asra. “You’ve never accompanied me to the Palace before… what’s different about today?”

Asra shrugged as though the question didn’t bother him, but Cadenza noted that he clenched his jaw slightly. “I thought you might like to have some company.” His expression hardened. “I also have some business of my own to take care of at the Palace.”

Cadenza watched Asra carefully, and after a few moments, she witnessed a sad expression flicker across his face. She recognized it as a sad one because he had worn the same one when he had told her about Muriel being taken away from him and how he had blamed himself. The sadness was soon replaced with something else, however. A hard gleam. A glint of determination. Her gaze travelled lower and she noticed that he had his money pouch with him. The raven-haired magician narrowed her eyes.

“With whom are you hoping to carry out this so-called business?” she asked.

“If I tell you, will you tell me who, exactly, you’re going to see?” Asra countered, causing Cadenza to press her lips together: a bitter taste flooding her mouth.

“Quaestor Valdemar,” she answered after a few beats of hesitation.

Asra pressed his own lips together, but eventually answered as well. “Count Lucio.” He sighed, as though a weight had been lifted off of his chest at the admission, but his shoulders still sagged. “Oh, Enza,” he murmured, almost too quietly for his friend to overhear him. “What do you know about the Quaestor?”

“Not much. They seem to know a lot more about me than I know about them.” Cadenza wrapped a curl around her index finger, recalling her nerves about the encounter awaiting her all over again. “Hopefully I will know more after our meeting. Although it’s not as if I am planning of speaking with them ever again afterward. Something about them doesn’t feel right.”

“That’s an understatement.” Asra cleared his throat and his expression grew softer as he gazed up at Cadenza. “Would you… would you promise me that you’ll be careful during your meeting with the Quaestor?”

“ _Giurin giurello._ ” Cadenza squeezed Asra’s little finger with her own. “I’ll be careful.” She looked into her friend’s eyes meaningfully. She was broaching a sensitive topic, or so she assumed by his less than happy reactions whenever it had been brought up in the past. “Will you be careful with the Count?”

Asra looked away. “Yeah. I will.”

Their conversation ended there and the pair continued on their way toward the Palace all the while quietly brooding. Neither of them was looking forward to their respective meetings and they did their best to distract themselves with thoughts of other things for as long as they could. Cadenza thought of her friend, who was walking alongside her, and how he seemed genuinely concerned about her wellbeing—she found it quite touching. Asra thought of his friend, also walking alongside him, and how he wanted her to tell him that things would be okay much like she had that night where they had shared her sleeping mat.

When the pair of magicians finally reached the Palace, thoughts of their impending meetings and the business to which they had to attend had returned to the forefront of their minds. Cadenza and Asra exchanged a look that lasted just a few seconds longer than it should have as they walked through the gates. They reached out toward one another at almost exactly the same time, their fingertips just barely managing to brush before they were escorted in different directions by a guard and the chamberlain. Each magician hoped that the other would be all right.


	22. Make up Your Mind (Part II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cadenza demands answers from Quaestor Valdemar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning(s): mentions of demons and resurrection.

The guard led Cadenza to a part of the Palace that she had never visited before then. They took her underground, beneath the bright, sunny, and gold-gilded hallways that she had walked through on previous occasions to a place that was dark, dank, and just felt… wrong. The raven-haired magician hugged her arms around herself in an attempt to shield herself from the cold and the pinpricks of dread that seemed intent on settling beneath her skin.

When the guard left Cadenza in a stone-brick room bathed in red light, she was almost tempted to reach out for them and ask them to stay with her. She was feeling more uncomfortable by the second, but she knew that she could neither leave nor ask the guard to stay—as a matter of fact, they were gone before she was even able to really consider doing so. Instead, Cadenza just hugged her arms around herself more tightly and started to tap one of her feet in an attempt to release some pent-up stress.

The more she looked around the underground space to which she was brought, the more she began to notice unsettling aspects of it. There were wooden tables scattered about the room and while they might not have sparked alarm under normal circumstances, these ones had leather restraints hanging down from the sides toward the floor. There were glass jars containing indistinct floating objects. There were all sorts of knives and medical equipment sitting on trays near the tables. There were also what appeared to be cells with barred windows lined up against another wall.

“What do you think of my laboratory?” Valdemar’s lips were suddenly right by Cadenza’s ear and the magician fought the urge to jump in the air. “I cleaned it up a little when I heard that you were coming to see me.”

Cadenza turned her head around and met Valdemar’s scarlet gaze, holding it as they circled her until they stood in front of her. “What do you want from me?”

“Straight to the point, hm?” Valdemar raised their eyebrows and steepled their fingers together. “I appreciate your bluntness, Cadenza.”

“Thank you.” Cadenza squared her shoulders in an attempt to keep herself from giving away her discomfort. “The question I just posed you is not the only one I have. I would also like to know why on earth–” she pulled _The Forge_ from her satchel, “–you gave me this to read.”

A smile tugged at Valdemar’s lips. “So you _did_ read it.”

“Yes, I read it,” Cadenza spat and she tightened her grip on the journal. “When you gave me _The Forge,_ you made it sound as though it were a gift—as though it would bestow me with eye-opening knowledge about myself and my so-called gifts. Instead I read about… about….” She couldn’t bring herself to say it, to admit out loud what she had read.

“You got to the entry by Oleander.” Valdemar’s tone was flat. They weren’t posing a question.

Cadenza swallowed hard. “Yes.”

Valdemar leaned in, grinning widely enough to show pointed teeth. “What did you think?”

For a moment, Cadenza saw red. She didn’t need her cards to confirm to her that the emotion she was feeling was anger. She was practically trembling from head to toe, the fingers of her left hand curling into a fist. She had never hit anyone before in her life, but she was tempted to do so now. Her arms were strong for some reason, stronger than the rest of her body and all she wanted to do was put all of her strength behind one clean punch. But she didn’t. She wouldn’t.

Instead, she unfurled her fist and flexed her fingers. She wouldn’t risk harming one of her hands that she used to play the violin, to make tea for the people she cared for, to help those in need who visited her aunt’s shop. No. She wouldn’t give the Quaestor what they so clearly wanted. The raven-haired magician took a moment to recompose herself, to take a few deep breaths that she hoped would steady her. When she was ready, she met Quaestor Valdemar’s gaze evenly and her legs stopped trembling. She was solid. Steady.

“I have some notes regarding what I read. For one, the authors of certain entries alleged that animancy and necromancy are one and the same. As a practitioner of both, I can tell you definitively that they are not. Animancers deals with life-force we can only manipulate the flow of it within our realm. Necromancers, however, deal specifically with the transition of that energy from our realm into the extra-planar ones—namely that of Death.

“Secondly, what Victoire and Oleander describe in their entries is not ‘true necromancy,’ it is a perversion of the art and I should know because in all of my years of practicing it, it never felt right. Not even for a moment.” Cadenza breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly in an attempt to quell her mounting anger. “Resurrection is unnatural and wrong, and I _wish_ that it was more difficult to figure out how to perform, because as it stands, even a fool could figure it out with a little bit of dogged determination.

“Finally, if you think for one second that I would take everything that I read in _The Forge_ and reach the conclusion that I ought to continue down the path of people such as Oleander and those that wrote the consequent entries, the ones obscured by blood and ichor, you are deluded.” Cadenza took a step forward, pointed a finger in Valdemar’s face. “Whatever it is that you want from me,—and I think I have a fair idea of what that is now—rest assured that I will _never_ fill the role you want me to fill.”

When all was said and done, Cadenza was breathing heavily as she glared at Quaestor Valdemar. Her heart was threatening to beat out of her chest, she could hear her own blood roaring in her ears, and she was sweating as though she had just run a race, but still, she stood her ground. She watched Quaestor Valdemar’s expression carefully, waiting to glimpse a flicker of something in their scarlet eyes that would indicate to her that she had them right where she wanted, that they would back down without her needing to put up any more of a fight.

Instead, Quaestor’s Valdemar’s lips twitched and the corners of their mouth were gradually tugged upward into a terrifying smile. They laughed and it was a cold, rattling sound like knucklebones being shaken inside a container. At that, Cadenza’s stomach dropped to her feet and the confidence that she had been feeling moments ago all but evaporated. She took a step back and the Quaestor took a step forward. She took another step back, and still, the Quaestor followed. It wasn’t long before they had her backed up against one of the wooden tables.

“The way you speak always amazes me, Cadenza. Always so fearless, so willing to say whatever it is that’s on your mind no matter your audience.” Valdemar leaned in and their cold breath chilled Cadenza’s skin. “If you knew what I really am… you would not speak to me in this way.”

“What are you, then?” Cadenza asked in hardly a whisper.

“Hm.” Valdemar cracked their knuckles as they leaned back. “I think I will let you figure that out for yourself.” They traced Cadenza’s jaw with a fingertip. “You’re a smart girl, I’m sure you can do it.”

Cadenza fought the urge to look down at her feet, to run screaming out of the room she was in and the Palace. “What do you want from me?”

“Why don’t you tell me what you _think_ I want from you?”

Cadenza swallowed hard. “I think you want me to resurrect the dead—to create demons for you for reasons that I haven’t quite understood.”

“ _Very good._ ” Valdemar grinned and they patted Cadenza on the head as though she was an obedient pet. “And? Will you do it for me? I have everything necessary on hand for you to do so right now.”

Cadenza wanted to shove Valdemar away from her, but she knew that doing so would demonstrate weakness—weakness that they could target and exploit the next time their paths crossed. “Like I said earlier: I will never resurrect someone ever again. I will never practice necromancy ever again. I will pay for the things that I have done for the rest of my life, but I will never repeat the egregious mistakes of my past.”

“ _Tsk,_ how noble of you.” Valdemar took a step back, opened up a path for Cadenza to the door. “You’re free to leave, but… you’ll be back. And do you wish to know how I know that you will?”

Cadenza looked toward the exit, but she didn’t leave, not yet. She couldn’t leave. Not until she _knew._ “How do you know that I’ll come back to you?”

“Because for so many years, practicing necromancy was something that helped you feel at least somewhat in control. And I know that it kills you that you never got the art of resurrection quite right. You strike me as the type to want to do something over and over again until you get it just right.” Valdemar’s grin grew softer, more smug and knowing. “You’ll be back when you want to feel like you’re in control again. You’ll be back to get things right.”

There were tears in Cadenza’s eyes and for the first time since she had walked into the room, she resorted to looking down at the floor in order to hide her emotional reaction from Quaestor Valdemar. Still, the sniffle that she let out betrayed her. Quaestor Valdemar traced a fingertip up her jaw toward her hair and wrapped a curl around it. That was what finally broke Cadenza—a cold touch that betrayed so much understanding of things that they couldn’t possibly know. That they shouldn’t know.

Cadenza stepped away from the Quaestor, and the curl that they had had wrapped around their finger bounced as it sprung free from their grasp. She couldn’t say anything. Her words were frozen in her throat. It felt as though there was no air coming into her lungs. She wiped viciously at her eyes, which were starting to spill tears against her will, and she raced out of the room without looking at Quaestor Valdemar again.

Her thoughts were so far away at the moment—simultaneously stuck in the past and projecting into the future—that she really wasn’t sure how she actually managed to find her way out of the underground. She felt intense relief when she saw daylight again, when she felt it warming her skin. For a few moments, all she could do was lean against a bookshelf and breathe deeply in an attempt to shove the bad thoughts down and away. Her efforts were practically futile. The thoughts were there to stay.

Once her eyes were clear enough of tears, however, Cadenza was comfortable enough to walk. And so she did. She walked out of the Palace library, out into the hallway, and her feet carried her toward Count Lucio’s solarium, which is where she presumed, and hoped, that she would find Asra. _Asra._ She wanted him to wrap his arms around her, to tell her that everything would be okay, much like she had wanted to and had that night after she had woken up after helping Muriel. At the same time, she hoped that he was more okay than her.


	23. Make up Your Mind (Part III)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Asra demands that Count Lucio hold up his end of a deal they struck four years ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning(s): mentions of blood and violence.

It had been a while since Asra had set foot in the Palace, about a year, but he would have been able to find his way to Count Lucio’s solarium even without the help of the chamberlain. It was a path that was seared into his mind. He would never forget it for as long as he lived because of what waited for him at his destination: Count Lucio, himself, the man who held the strings on a deal that Asra had begged him to strike with him four years ago.

Asra clenched his jaw as he approached the solarium. The deal was unfair and he had agreed to it in a moment of desperation when he wasn’t able to think about the weight that it would carry, how the amount of money that he was meant to turn over was trivial to Count Lucio but would leave him toeing the poverty line. It was bullshit, but he tolerated it. For Muriel. He reminded himself that he was doing all of this for Muriel.

“He’s just inside,” the chamberlain said, the sound of his voice snapping Asra from his thoughts. He fidgeted nervously with the hem of his uniform. “Um, I must warn you that he has been drinking.”

For a moment, Asra was tempted to just walk away. He hated to deal with Lucio on a good day, but he hated the prospect of dealing with an inebriated Lucio even more. But he knew that he couldn’t do that. Not when he was on the verge of filling in his end of the bargain. He sighed. “Thank you for the heads up.”

“Good luck,” was the last thing that the chamberlain said to Asra before scurrying away and leaving the magician alone.

Once he _was_ alone, standing outside of the door that led into the solarium, Asra couldn’t help imagining all of the times that Cadenza had stood outside of that very same door: unaware that he had stood in the very same place as him. He imagined that she was about as hesitant as him to reach for the gilded handle and open the door. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, did his best to refocus his thoughts. He pictured Muriel as he had last seen him and it was just the push he needed to open the door.

Asra was careful to close the door quietly behind him, so as to not disturb Lucio, who was lounging on a sofa with an arm draped over his face in order to shield his eyes from the sunlight that streamed into the room. Surely enough, just as the chamberlain had indicated, there was a pitcher of wine sitting on a nearby table that was almost completely drained. The fluffy-haired magician massaged his temples in anticipation of the discussion that was about to occur and cleared his throat to alert Count Lucio of his presence.

“ _Gods!_ ” Lucio sat up abruptly, wincing slightly from the volume of his own voice. “You’re almost as quiet as that other magician, the one with the black hair. Uhh, Caddy. Cadenza.” He squinted at Asra. “Well? What are you doing just standing over there? Come closer and sit down.”

At Lucio’s prompting, Asra made his way over to the sofa and sat down in the armchair across from it somewhat stiffly. He gripped the armrests and bounced his knee. “You know why I’m here.” It was a statement, not a question.

Lucio reached for his glass and swirled the wine in it around before taking a sip. “Why don’t you remind me?”

The grin that was tugging at Lucio’s wine-stained lips betrayed the fact that he _did_ know why Asra had come to see him and that this was an attempt to put him in his place. “Four years ago, we came to an understanding and I’ve been making payments to you ever since. So, to answer your question: I’m here to make another payment.”

“Remind me why you’re making these payments, too?”

The corners of Asra’s mouth twitched down and his eyebrows drew together. “For Muriel,” he murmured. “To free him.”

“Hmm,” Lucio hummed, tapping his chin, “I don’t know anyone named Muriel.” He was being difficult, hoping to get a reaction out of Asra.

“You may know him as the Scourge of the South,” Asra said through gritted teeth.

“Ah, yes, then I do know him! He’s a great fighter and makes a great Heel. He can be pretty brutal during the executions.”

“Stop,” Asra finally snapped, his voice echoing about the room. “I don’t want to hear it, I just… all I want is to set him free.” He reached for his money pouch. “I should have been clearer earlier, but I’ll be clear now: I’m here to make my final payment to you.”

Lucio raised a thick eyebrow and leaned forward in his seat, his pupils like pinpricks in silver pools. “ _Really,_ ” he intoned.

“Math isn’t really my strong suit, but I sat down and did it anyway.” Asra set his money pouch on the table with just enough force that the other objects on it rattled against the polished wooden surface. “This should cover everything that I owe you. This is me covering my end of our deal,” Asra said in as even a tone he could muster, “and I expect you to hold up your end, now, too.”

Everything was eerily quiet in the solarium and it seemed as though even the birds outside in the gardens had sensed the tension between Asra and the Count and had fallen silent so that the pair might conduct their business in peace or to collect gossip. Asra counted the seconds in his mind. Each one felt like an eon. He had reached “eleven” by the time Count Lucio reacted by way of a shrill laugh that made the hair on the back of Asra’s neck stand on end. It wasn’t a promising reaction and neither was the look in the Count’s eyes when he wiped them.

“Wow, it takes guts to talk to me like that!” Lucio slapped his knee, but there was something subtly threatening hidden beneath his joking tone. “Unfortunately, I’m not gonna be able to hand the Scourge over to you or free him, or whatever it is that you want.”

“I’ve been very clear about what I want,” Asra replied, his own tone harsh in an attempt to cover up the anger that was building up inside of him and threatening to break free. “I want you to tear up Muriel’s contract that you keep Gods know where that keeps him a prisoner at the Coliseum and to your whims. I want you to let him walk away. For good.”

Lucio waved his hand dismissively and snatched up the money pouch on the table. He weighed it in the palm of his hand. “This should buy you a few more visits than you got last year.”

“You’re not hearing me. I want you to let him go. You _need_ to let him go. I held up my end of our deal, it’s your turn now.”

“Oh, I’m hearing you just fine,” Lucio snapped and he dropped the joking facade for a few seconds before grinning again. “If you had paid me in full a few years ago, I might have let him go. But there’s no way that I’m going to do that now. Not when he’s the star of the sands: the guy that all the visiting dignitaries and nobles from other city states or countries want to see get bloody.”

Rather than spouting profanities, Asra shot to his feet and was also briefly tempted of overturning the table in front of him, spilling the remaining wine all over expensive textiles. Somehow, he managed to keep himself from doing exactly that. “Why are you doing this?” he asked, his eyes stinging with tears. “I want to know the real reason.”

Lucio seemed to consider the question for a few moments and eventually, he shrugged. “Because I can.”

“Fuck you.” The curse slipped from Asra’s lips before he could stop it and Lucio’s eyes widened. It felt good. It made him feel like he was at least somewhat in control when what he had been working forward to for so long had been yanked from his grasp. “ _Fuck you._ ”

“I am the Count of Vesuvia!” Lucio shouted. “You can’t talk to me like that!”

“If the Count of Vesuvia can’t even be expected to keep his word then I think it’s fair for the ‘peasants’ that you screw over to curse you out. So. Fuck you.”

It was at that point that Lucio stood up as well. He swayed slightly on his feet. “I’ll never let you visit your friend again. You can go ahead and consider Muriel dead. Only the Scourge of the South exists now.” Despite the fact that he looked like he might lose his balance at any given moment, Lucio still looked imposing and severe. “Now get the fuck out of my sight before I decide that you shouldn’t exist anymore, either.”

“You want me to leave? Gladly,” Asra spat. “This is all going to bite you in the ass someday, I promise.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Go ahead and take it as one.”

Asra left the solarium without bothering to collect his money pouch and slammed the door behind him with enough force that he hoped the windows or mirrors would rattle. He was more than angry, he was furious and the tears that spilled from his eyes were bitter when they reached his lips. He wanted Muriel back, he wanted Muriel to stop hurting. A sob was wrenched out of him at the thought of not even being able to see his best friend anymore because of his actions and Asra clutched at his chest as if to stop his heart from breaking.

How did he manage to screw things up so badly? Why did he do what he did when he knew, deep down, that it wouldn’t help anything? If he had Cadenza’s cards in his hands, he knew right then that the ones that read “Hopeless” and “Despairing” would light up if those ones even existed in her deck. He was staring into the abyss and the abyss was staring back at him. Asra wrapped his arms tightly around himself in an attempt to self-soothe, but it didn’t help. Nothing seemed to help.

“Asra?”

The sound of Cadenza’s voice jolted Asra and he opened his watery eyes to find her standing just a few feet away from him, looking very much like she hadn’t had the best go of things, either. “ _Enza,_ ” was the only thing he managed to croak in response and he held open his trembling arms in silent supplication.

Cadenza rushed forward and wrapped two surprisingly strong arms around her friend. “I’m here,” she whispered when Asra surrendered completely to her touch, when he buried his face in her shoulder in order to sob openly. She lifted one of her hands to tangle her fingers in his soft curls and to scratch his scalp gently. “I am right here.”


	24. No Light, No Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cadenza and Asra get closer at the exact wrong time.

The pair of fluffy-haired magicians ended up in the Palace gardens somehow. Neither of them was quite sure who had made the choice to head there, but they weren’t going to complain. The sunlight felt good on their skin and it did wonders in terms of chasing the chill that had made its way into their bones as a consequence of their meetings with the Quaestor and the Count. They took sanctuary in the shade of a willow tree, their arms wrapped tightly around each other.

Asra’s face was wet with tears and the shoulder of Cadenza’s dress was almost soaked through with them from all the times that he had pressed his face against her. Cadenza, herself, was doing her best to hold it all together for her friend’s sake. She was shaken, but she was able to compartmentalize for the time being by focusing on the fact that Asra was in need of her support. She turned her face up to the weeping branches of the willow tree and hummed a melody that always set her at ease.

“What is that that you’re humming?” Asra asked quietly after a few beats, his voice thick with tears.

Cadenza paused. “It’s an excerpt from a piece that my violin teacher made me practice often when I was growing up.” She sighed and her breath ruffled Asra’s hair. “The piece was very technically difficult and, well, let’s just say that it contributed to building up the callouses on my fingertips. I would get completely absorbed in it when I practiced and the music became my own little world that I could retreat into… it was soothing.”

Asra sniffled. “Does this piece have a name?”

“Yes.” Cadenza looked to the dangling branches of the willow tree that currently shielded her and Asra from the rest of the world. “ _Salice piangente._ Weeping Willow.”

“Did you name it yourself?”

“Does asking me questions take your mind off of what made you so upset?” Cadenza asked with an edge to her voice initially, only to soften when she felt Asra bristle slightly in her arms. She nodded her head slowly and relented. “I did. My teacher, Signora Kolbeck, scolded me initially. She said that it wasn’t my piece to name.

“At that point, though, I had practiced the piece so often that it was seared into my mind, that it practically became a permanent part of my muscle memory.” As she spoke, Cadenza’s fingers started to move against the side of Asra’s neck. “It was only when I started to modify the piece, to really make it my own, that Signora Kolbeck stopped bothering me about it.”

Asra sat back so that he could look Cadenza in the eyes, his arms slipping from where he had wrapped them around her. His hands came to rest at her waist. “I think this is the first time that I’ve really heard you talk about your life back in Venterre.”

A long silence stretched between the two magicians after Asra spoke. All that could be heard was the twittering of birds, the rustle of leaves as a breeze blew through tree branches. Cadenza didn’t know what to say. A bitter taste flooded her mouth at the thought of discussing any more details of her life back in Venterre, of the life that was waiting for her there when she returned. Which was soon. Very soon. Her stomach lurched and she looked away from Asra to stare at the grass. This time, Asra wasn’t left guessing as to whether what he had said had upset Cadenza. Her avoidant reaction told him everything.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, his hands reaching for hers. “I didn’t mean anything by it. We can talk about something else.”

“You apologize to me far too often, Asra. You didn’t say or do anything wrong.” Cadenza shrugged. She was uncomfortable, but she powered through. For Asra. To absolve him of the guilt that he was feeling. “I know my reactions to certain things are… unusual.”

“Theres nothing wrong with that.” Asra traced circles across the backs of Cadenza’s hands with his thumbs. “You’re you and your reactions are yours. Not unusual at all.”

Cadenza felt her cheeks heat and she fixed her gaze on her hands, which Asra cradled in his own palms. “Do you want to talk about what made you cry?” she asked in an attempt to divert attention from herself and Asra’s thumbs stopped tracing her skin.

“Count Lucio,” Asra replied, his voice tight. He stood up and moved behind Cadenza to press his forehead against the trunk of the willow tree. “He made me feel so fucking small, like nothing I’ve ever done or will do will ever amount to anything meaningful.”

What Asra was describing was a feeling that Cadenza knew well although she didn’t know its name. Her chest grew tight as she recalled all of the times that she had laid in her bed back in Venterre, numb and plagued by thoughts of inadequacy: that she would never accomplish what she so desperately wished to accomplish for her own sake and that of others who came to her seeking salvation. Her heart ached for Asra. No one deserved to feel the way that she had felt for years and years, and years.

The raven-haired magician stood up wordlessly and moved to stand directly behind Asra. After a few beats of hesitation, she wrapped her arms around him tightly, dropping her head to rest her chin on his shoulder. Asra let out a shuddering breath followed by a strangled sob. He started to cry again, his tears rolling down his cheeks and chin to splash onto Cadenza’s arms where they wrapped around him. For several long minutes, the two magicians stood under the willow tree in silence, their hearts breaking in unison.

Tears were streaming down Cadenza’s own cheeks and she tasted them when she parted her lips to speak. “I know how you feel, I know how you feel,” she murmured. “Emotions have always been tricky for me, but this feeling… it’s inescapable. A pain so profound that it leaks out of you by way of tears.”

Asra hiccuped and lifted a hand to tangle it in Cadenza’s curls. “It’s not fair. It’s not fair that the only reason I hurt and that Muriel hurts is because the Count in all of his so-called wisdom doesn’t care to put an end to it.” He bumped his other hand, curled tightly into a fist, against the trunk of the willow tree. “I thought I knew better, but he’s still playing with my strings like I’m a fucking marionette.”

“I’m sorry,” was the only thing that Cadenza could think to say, to mumble against Asra’s skin.

“So am I.” Asra let out a whistling breath through his teeth. “What has the Quaestor got on you that you’re tied up in knots just like me? What strings of yours are they clutching in their hands?”

Cadenza squeezed her eyes shut, tried to push the memories of her last encounter with Valdemar and what they had said to her out of her mind. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Asra said quietly, hardly loudly enough for Cadenza to hear. “We don’t have to talk about anything.”

The next thing Cadenza knew, Asra was turning around in his arms so that he could face her. Their gazes were almost level like this: golden and violet melting into something new. They were sharing air, their breaths tickling each other’s flushed skin. The tips of their noses were almost touching. Their lips were not far away from each other, either. They looked soft, inviting even though they glistened with the tears that they had both shed. Asra’s pupils were like black pools, Cadenza’s heart beat harder and faster in her chest. The two magicians leaned toward one another.

The first brush of their lips was awkward, a brief introduction more than anything. The next time their lips met, they acquainted themselves fully with one another in a kiss that started out tender but quickly became heated. The magicians poured everything that they had into the kiss that they shared. All of their longing and anger, and sadness, and _hope._ Cadenza dragged her teeth across Asra’s bottom lip, Asra traced the points of her teeth with his tongue when she parted her lips for him.

The way that the two of them gave and took, gave and took, and shared… it was clear that they had been wanting each other for a while. Although, in Cadenza’s case, she hadn’t realized the depth of her feelings for her friend until their lips first met. She had never navigated a friendship before let alone _this._ She wrapped her arms tighter around Asra, let him curl his fingers more tightly in her hair and pull it. They sighed into each other’s mouths, they tasted the salt of their tears on each other’s tongues.

 _What are you doing, Cadenza?_ The thought came unbidden to the raven-haired magician. _He doesn’t know the things that you’ve done. He deserves better than you. You’re a murder. A witch. A traitor. A thief._

“No,” Cadenza whimpered against Asra’s lips and she wrenched herself away from him, her hands coming up to get tangled and lost in her own wild hair. “No, no, no.”

“What’s wrong?” Asra asked, concern plain in his voice and his amethyst eyes seeking Cadenza’s gold-flecked ones. She wouldn’t look at him. “Are you okay? Did I do something?”

“You didn’t do anything. It’s me. It’s all me. It’s always me.” A strangled noise escaped her and she pulled her own hair hard enough to hurt. “I never know what’s going on in my own head until it starts happening.” Cadenza’s breathing was growing erratic. “It’s happening again.”

“What’s happening again? Enza?” Asra reached out to touch Cadenza’s elbow but she took a step back. “Please, talk to me.”

“Everything feels like it’s out of my control.” The raven-haired magician shook her head viciously and turned toward the Palace. “I’m out of control.”

“Hey, let’s talk this through.” Asra’s voice was strained when he spoke and it was clear that he was trying to rein in his own emotions, to push through his confusion and the hurt that he was feeling. “I’m here for you, I want to help. I want to understand.”

“No, trust me when I say that you don’t want to understand this—you don’t want to understand _me._ ” Cadenza’s own voice was shaking. She felt as though she was going to combust. “I’m out of control, I need to be in control.”

“You are in control, Enza. Please, believe me when I say that you’re in complete control of yourself.”

“I’m not, I never have been. If I told you all the things that I had done, you would leave me right here. You would leave and never look back.”

“You can’t possibly know that.” Asra fought the urge to follow Cadenza as she put more distance between them. “I don’t know what you’re planning on doing, but please, stay. _Please._ ”

But Cadenza didn’t listen. She couldn’t listen, she could barely hear what Asra was saying to her over the roar of her blood in her ears and the wild thudding of her heart against her ribs. She smacked aside the weeping branches of the willow tree beneath which she and Asra had taken shelter and raced across the dead grass of winter. Every plea that reached her ears, however, felt like a knife to the heart. She knew that she was hurting both Asra and herself by turning away, but she couldn’t find it in her to turn around and face her emotions. They were frightening, too much for her to handle.

And so, Cadenza did the only thing that she could think to do. She allowed her thoughts to go silent. She flipped a switch inside of herself, embraced the cold that made her numb to everyone and everything. She had adapted to it and it didn’t evoke any strong reactions from her. It was comforting, in a twisted way. She ran across the Palace grounds and although she tried to tell herself she was running toward Quaestor Valdemar, toward their promises of gaining control over her life, deep down, she knew that she was running away all over again. It was all she knew how to do. She was, after all, a coward of sorts.

She just hoped that the Quaestor would keep their promise and that they would help her to feel somewhat in control of her life again.


	25. Breath of Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cadenza decides whether she wants to continue down the familiar path of practicing necromancy at the behest of others or a more frightening path paved by self-determination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning(s): death, as well as mentions of demons and resurrection.

Quaestor Valdemar stood comfortably behind one of the tables in their dungeon drumming their fingers against the wooden surface. They had not chased after Cadenza when she left, they hadn’t shouted at her to come back, either. They knew what they were doing, they could sense that their carefully-planned hunt was coming to an end. The reason they were so arrogantly certain that their efforts would pay off was because Cadenza was not the first necromancer they had seduced—far from it, in fact.

They had preserved _The Forge_ for many reasons, but one of the reasons was that it acted as a tally of sorts of all the necromancers they had successfully taken under their wing over the course of hundreds of years. They had bagged every necromancer to cross their path. A grin tugged at the Quaestor’s lips and they fought the urge to smile at no one. With a record like that, the odds were good that Cadenza would be returning to them, too.

Part of them lived for the thrill of the chase, but they also quietly hoped that Cadenza would be _it_ for them. They were growing tired of investing time and resources in necromancer after necromancer only for things to fall through every single time. The reason that they had such strong hopes for Cadenza was because, in the not too distant past, she had already done what they needed her to do: resurrect the dead as demons. Most importantly, she had done it all on her own—without any tutelage from the Quaestor or other entities like them.

Yes, the raven-haired magician who had looked at them from under her dark lashes on the night of the Masquerade had potential. She was also far more stubborn than Quaestor Valdemar had initially given the credit for—but they didn’t hold that against her. If anything, her stubbornness motivated them since it was always more satisfying to see someone break after insisting that they never would. They couldn’t wait to see the look on Cadenza’s face when she returned to them. Would she look resigned to her fate? Angry?

Quaestor Valdemar gleefully cracked their knuckles. They would find out soon enough. After all, no necromancer to cross their path had ever walked away.

✧ ✧ ✧

The only thing Cadenza could hear was her own frantic heartbeat. Her vision was tunnelled, she could see nothing but darkness in her periphery. She had no idea whether Asra was still following her and she couldn’t bring herself to look over her shoulder out of fear of what she would see written across his face... out of fear of what he might glimpse in _her_ expression. The look in his amethyst eyes when she had pulled away from him flashed through her mind and she bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to draw blood. She didn’t know how she would ever be able to face him again.

Gods, why had he kissed her? Why had she kissed him back? She had no idea how she felt about Asra or how to feel about the fact that their lips had fit together so perfectly after that first awkward blush. She recalled the time that she had kissed the corners of his mouth on his birthday, her lips just shy of pressing fully against his, and she wondered what might have happened if he had just turned his head to the side. But no. Instead, they had shared a kiss on a day where nothing seemed to be going right for either of them. There was no use in wondering whether all of this could have been avoided.

She was in the middle of the fallout right that very moment.

The raven-haired magician felt as though a storm was raging all around her—the roar of blood in her ears could have just as easily been the wind, the thundering inside of her skull could have just as easily been the rumble that followed a lightning strike. The last time that she had felt a fraction of this, Cadenza had run to the shop and practically thrown herself into her aunt’s arms. But now? She wasn’t sure that her aunt would be enough. In her current state, the only thing that Cadenza could think to do was to throw herself into old habits. This was the easiest option available to her, after all.

Part of her hated that Quaestor Valdemar had been right about her: how she was crawling back to them now that she had felt control slip from her grasp. But she could not dissuade herself from returning to the them, she could not bring herself to turn around and start walking in the opposite direction. This was the path of least resistance... the path that required the least self-reflection and the least exercise of her ability to self-determine. Cadenza hung her head and the voices of the dead that clawed at the back of her mind called her a coward.

It was dark beneath the Palace and the dim flames that burned in the torches cast distorted shadows up onto the stone walls. Cadenza shivered as the temperature plunged and she wiped aggressively at her teary eyes with the back of her hands before rubbing her palms up and down her arms in an attempt to restore some warmth to them. The closer she got to the stone room bathed in red light that she had been escorted to earlier, the more numb she began to feel.

Deep down, Cadenza felt like with every step she took toward the destiny that the Quaestor had plotted for her, she was losing something that she could not name. Something that she had the unshakable feeling she would not be able to gain back if she proceeded with whatever they had in mind for her to do. And yet, she simply could not bring herself to care anymore. The only thing she wanted anymore was to feel like she was in control. The cost didn’t matter. After all, she would be the one paying.

“Back so soon?”

Quaestor Valdemar’s voice seemed to be coming from all directions at once, echoing of the cold stone walls, and Cadenza bristled. The raven-haired magician looked around the red-drenched room for their familiar silhouette, only to stop short when she noticed a lumpy shape covered with an almost-pristine white cloth on one of the many tables. “Almost-pristine” because the white cloth was stained with red splotches. Cadenza’s blood ran cold and she started to take a step back only to bump into something sturdy and unyielding.

“I’ll be honest, Cadenza,” Valdemar said in their calm, even voice, resting their hands on the young magician’s shoulders and turning her around, “I was not expecting you to make such a swift return.” The Quaestor blinked their scarlet eyes and tilted their head to the side. “What brought you back to me?”

Cadenza shrugged Valdemar’s hands off of her. “Is my reason for returning really that important to you?” she countered. “Or will the simple fact that I _have_ returned suffice?”

Valdemar steepled their fingers, looking thoughtful for a few beats before grinning. “Always so direct. I appreciate that about you. Too many humans waste their breath when they speak.” They looked Cadenza up and down, silently appraising her. “I must admit that I am very pleased that you chose to return. And so promptly, too!”

Rather than adding something of value to the conversation, Cadenza simply pointed in the direction of the cloth-covered lump on the table behind her. “What is that?”

“To the point once again. How refreshing.” Valdemar clasped their hands together behind their back and started to walk toward the table, pausing only to cast a glance over their shoulder and raise an eyebrow at Cadenza. “Well? Are you not curious?”

Cadenza knew that she could still walk away. She didn’t believe that Quaestor Valdemar would make any attempts to restrain her or prevent her from leaving—in all the time that she had known them, they had never truly attempted to trap her. She could still choose a different path. But she didn’t want to. She didn’t feel like she could, really. In a way, she had resigned herself to the fact that she would only ever be adept at one thing, that her only value lay in what she was able to do as a necromancer. And so, Cadenza chose to do the exact opposite of walking away: she walked _toward._

The closer she got to the cloth-covered lump, however, the more _off_ Cadenza started to feel, but she did her best to brush it off. Her heart was beating so hard in her chest that she was certain that Quaestor Valdemar could hear it, too. They didn’t comment on it, but they did gaze at her intensely: their red eyes wide and unblinking, and fixed on her as she approached. They rubbed their thumb against one of the rusty-red stains that marred the otherwise perfect cloth—they did so not to clean it up, but to draw Cadenza’s attention to it.

“Have you guessed what I am?” they asked in a tone that Cadenza couldn’t quite place. Their gaze was still fixed on the magician who now stood by their side, their head was turned almost unnaturally.

“I don’t... I don’t know.” Cadenza recalled what she had read in _The Forge._ “An omen of Death, maybe? A corruption of the Major Arcana?”

“Good guesses. You’re close, but not quite there yet.” Valdemar leaned in and Cadenza felt their cool breath against her freckled cheek. “Would you like to guess again?”

Cadenza’s gut twisted. The way that she felt around Valdemar... it wasn’t a foreign feeling. No. It wasn’t foreign at all. The raven-haired magician bowed her head. “A demon,” she whispered.

Valdemar’s face practically split apart when they grinned; showing off their pointed teeth. “ _Very good,_ Cadenza. So you understand, then.”

“Understand what?”

“Why I need you by my side. Why I need you to make _more._ ”

With that, Quaestor Valdemar pulled the cloth down to reveal what Cadenza had always known deep down that she would have to see again: a dead body. The reaction of any other person probably would have been to flinch and take several steps back, but Cadenza did neither of those things. She just stared. She stared at the face of the person who had been living and breathing not long ago. No one had bothered to close their eyes. Cadenza felt her heart constrict in her chest, her head started to spin.

“As part of a deal that I struck long ago, Death no longer has any power over me—meaning that I can live forever.” Valdemar walked their fingers up the sternum of the dead person. “Unfortunately, I am also bound to a clause that does not allow me to practice necromancy.”

Realization washed over Cadenza. “You can’t resurrect the dead as demons.” She looked directly into Valdemar’s eyes. “That’s why you need me. That’s why you sought out other necromancers in the past.”

“Yes.” The Quaestor trailed their index finger along the line of the dead person’s jaw. The look in their eyes was almost one of longing. “I know precisely how to resurrect the dead, how to make them into demons—I’ve had more than enough time to study the different methods. But the deal that I struck also prevents me from voicing this knowledge to others.”

“Which is why you went after the talented necromancers. The ones that you thought had the potential to learn what you wanted them to learn without explicitly telling them how to go about it.”

Valdemar tapped their nose. “Don’t get me wrong, I could provide them with the tools that I needed, I could point them in the right direction... but I could never take the reins.”

“Every single one of them failed.” Cadenza pressed her lips together. “Didn’t they.” It wasn’t a question. She knew. She just wanted confirmation.

“They did. A few of them came close, but they couldn’t handle it.” Valdemar’s grin softened into a closed-lipped smile that was far more unsettling. “You, however, have managed to do it for _years._ ”

“I stopped.” Cadenza spoke so softly that she was barely able to hear herself. It was a wonder that the Quaestor had heard her.

“But you were always going to go back and do it again. Weren’t you?” They wrapped an arm around Cadenza’s shoulders, making her feel small and pathetic as they did so. “I know that your time here in Vesuvia runs out soon. I know that when it does, it will be back to Venterre with you. And I know all about what you do in your homeland, you don’t need to pretend.”

“I don’t know that I can do this.” Cadenza shook her head, but she couldn’t back away—not with Valdemar’s arm wrapped around her. “I don’t know that I can stomach this.”

“Now of all times is when you choose to find your moral compass?” Valdemar laughed. It sounded hollow. Cold. “Come on, Cadenza, you know better than that. You’ve brought so many people back as demons... you had to know that you were doing something wrong. And still, you persisted, you never changed your method. And now, when you’re on the verge of realizing your destiny, you decide to bring morality into your decision-making process?”

“This is a lot to take in, I just-” Cadenza inhaled sharply. “I need a moment to breathe, a moment to _think._ ”

“No, you don’t.” Valdemar moved their arm aside and grasped Cadenza’s hands in theirs. “You came here for a reason. Your attempts to deny who you are are nothing more than a distraction from what you set out to do.” They pressed Cadenza’s hands to the dead person’s chest. “You know what you need to do.”

Despite the cold, Cadenza was sweating. Her entire body felt heavy. She was a stone. She was a stone sitting on the very edge of a cliff and all that would take to throw her over into the yawning void below was a powerful gust of wind or a swift kick. And as she looked into that darkness that seemed to be expanding all around her, Cadenza glimpsed her future. Call it a hint of clairvoyance, call it simple wisdom and foresight, it didn’t matter. What mattered was what she saw and the visceral hatred that this potential version of herself stirred up inside of her present self.

If she did what the Quaestor was asking of her, there would be no turning back.

If she did what the Quaestor was asking of her, Cadenza would be as good as dead as she lost everything else that made her herself in order to fuel her necromancy.

If she did what the Quaestor was asking of her, Cadenza would lose herself in the power—she would drown herself in it willingly.

Who she was at present could not stand for this, and never would.

Without saying a word, Cadenza lifted her hands from the cold, cold chest of the dead person who lay exposed on the table in front of her, and closed their eyelids. They were at rest, at peace, and it was there that they would remain. Cadenza would not be bringing them back. Not today, not tomorrow, not _ever._ It was in that precise moment that she decided that she would never resurrect another person, never mess with the natural order of things ever again, because she could not bear to restore someone only to condemn them to an eternity of torment in the realm of the living. She could not be the person that Quaestor Valdemar wanted her to be—she _would_ _not_ _be._

“What are you doing?” Valdemar asked, their eyebrows drawing together.

“What I should have done sooner.” Cadenza was resolute and she tilted her chin up defiantly. “Refusing.”

“Is this ‘last stand’ of yours real or are you simply putting on an act so that you can say you wrestled with morality a little bit before giving in?”

“This isn’t an act,” Cadenza spat, her accent growing more pronounced as her anger mounted. “I am refusing, I am leaving, and I am hoping that I will never have to interact with you ever again.”

“... Enza?”

Cadenza turned around, her eyes widening when she saw Asra standing in the stone archway that led into the red room. His expression was stricken, his cheeks were streaked with tears. “ _Asra,_ ” she whispered. Seeing him... she felt as though her heart was going to burst.

“Enza,” Asra repeated, glancing between her, Valdemar, and the body on the table, “what’s going on?”

Fear niggled at the back of Cadenza’s mind and she looked warily at Valdemar, who looked to be deep in thought. She met Asra’s gaze when she spoke. “I’m ready to tell you everything, but we should go. We can talk at the shop.” _Where it’s safe,_ was what she elected not to say out loud.

“Okay.” Asra’s tone was guarded, his expression cautious, and he extended a hand toward Cadenza. “Come on, let’s go. Nevra is probably wondering where we are—we were supposed to be back a few hours ago.”

“No.” When Valdemar spoke, both magicians looked in their direction. They no longer looked to be deep in thought. They looked resolute. That eerie grin of theirs was back. “I’ve been nice, Cadenza, but now is the perfect time for you to learn that I am not above using torture to get what I want.” They looked at Asra. “How fortuitous that the perfect bargaining chip has practically delivered himself to me.”

Asra looked like he wanted to run, but he didn’t. He was still desperately extending his hand toward Cadenza. Even his fingertips were trembling. “Take my hand, please, let’s go.”

Valdemar took a step forward. They laid one hand on Cadenza’s shoulder as they leered at Asra. “Neither of you will be going anywhere. Too many necromancers have failed me. I am not about to let my best bet at fulfilling my one and only goal walk out of here.”

Everything happened so quickly after the Quaestor’s declaration. Later, the sequence of events would blur together in Cadenza’s mind, but Asra... Asra would _never_ forget what his friend did for him on that day.

He would never forget how Cadenza put herself between him and Quaestor Valdemar without a second thought when they lunged for him. He would never forget how the air around her hands had shimmered or how her palms had glowed a brilliant white when they made contact with Quaestor Valdemar’s chest. He would never forget how their eyes had briefly widened in surprise before going blank, or how they had collapsed onto the stone floor and convulsed as tendrils of darkness seeped out of their mouth, their eyes, their nose, their ears. He would never forget the faint smile on Cadenza’s lips when she looked over her shoulder at him, or the warmth in her gold-flecked gaze before she, too, crumpled to the ground.

Asra was certain that Cadenza had saved him and what happened on that day was one of many memories that he would turn over in his head about six years down the line, after failing to save her.

Uncertain of how much longer Quaestor Valdemar would be convulsing on the floor, Asra gathered Cadenza up into his arms as best as he could and hurried out of the underground dungeon, out of the Palace: half-carrying and half-dragging his raven-haired friend. The tears wouldn’t stop leaking from his eyes until he reached the shop. And even then, they only stopped because he was physically unable to shed any more of them. Neither he nor Ginevra—who had hurried Asra inside and helped him get Cadenza upstairs when they showed up at dusk—would know _any_ peace until Cadenza opened her eyes and gave some sign that she was _okay._


	26. Hospital Beds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zia Nevra and Asra have separate, emotional conversations with Cadenza.

Cadenza had been drifting in and out of consciousness for Gods only knew how long. The first time that she had opened her eyes since passing out in Quaestor Valdemar’s creepy lair beneath the Palace, her eyelids had been so heavy that she was only able to see for a few seconds before she drifted off once more. The next time she opened her eyes, she was able to keep them open for slightly longer, and noticed that it was day outside—although she was uncertain of the _time_ of day.

Over the course of a day or two, or three, or maybe more, Cadenza woke up and fell back asleep probably about fifteen times. What struck her the most was that there was always someone by her side when she did open her gold-flecked eyes: Asra or her aunt. And they were never— _never_ —dozing or inattentive when she came to. They would offer her a soft yet strained smile when her eyes focused on their face and would help her out with whatever she needed before her exhaustion claimed her again.

The next time Cadenza woke up, she felt relatively _refreshed._ The sun was up and the warm orangey-yellow of the light told her that it was either slightly after sunrise or the hour just before sunset. She rolled from her stomach onto her back and glimpsed the distinctive auburn turned fiery-red of her aunt’s hair in her peripheral vision. The raven-haired magician moved closer to her aunt, one hand poised as if to reach for her, only to pause when she noticed that the older magician had her head in her hands.

“ _Zia?_ ” Cadenza whispered, her voice hoarse and slightly scratchy with sleep.

Ginevra lifted her head abruptly, sniffling, and fixed her gaze on a nearby wall for a few seconds in a not so subtle attempt to compose herself. When she finally looked at her niece, her eyes were watery. “ _Enzina._ ” The corners of her mouth twitched up into a shaky smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. But I-” Cadenza cut herself off and frowned. “I can’t quite recall exactly what I did to feel like, well, shit.”

Ginevra moved to sit on the edge of the bed, brushed some unruly curls from Cadenza’s sweaty forehead. “I don’t think we need to rehash the details of what happened, but... what’s the last thing that you remember, _cara?_ ”

A crease appeared between Cadenza’s eyebrows as she drew them together and she turned her head to the side so that she looked out the window. Her eyes stung with tears that she had yet to shed. “I had just finished telling Quaestor Valdemar that I wouldn’t be doing what they wanted and they had threatened to hurt Asra in order to get me to comply. I think I shoved them? That’s where the details get fuzzy.”

“The specifics of what you did aren’t important. What matters is that you were able to protect yourself and Asra.” Ginevra pressed a warm hand against Cadenza’s surprisingly cool cheek. “What matters is that you exercised free will.”

Cadenza snorted and rolled her eyes. “ _Ma sei sul serio?_ What is that even supposed to mean?” There was a bite of anger in her tone, and she knew that her aunt didn’t deserve it. And yet, she made no attempts to soften her words. “I put my trust in an awful... _not-person,_ made the very poor decision to listen to any of what they told me, and nearly paid the price with Asra’s life.”

“Blaming yourself is easy, Cadenza.” Ginevra sighed and ran a hand through her tangled hair. Suddenly, she looked as though she had not slept in days. “It’s easy to fixate on the past and agonize over all of the things that you could have done differently. It is much harder to look at yourself and say that you did the best that you could with the tools that you had available to you at the time.”

“I blame myself because I was an idiot to believe anything that they told me when everyone else was so clearly wary to be around or associated with them.”

Ginevra’s shoulders sagged and the magician looked at the ceiling as though she was silently asking some unseen entity for strength. “When you showed up on my doorstep nearly a year ago, you were a shell of your former self—the self that I remember from my sporadic visits when you were a child. More often than not, you couldn’t tell me how you were feeling, you could barely tell apart my facial expressions or derive meaning from them.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“What I’m trying and failing to say is that you’ve come a long way since you came to Vesuvia.” Ginevra shifted closer still to Cadenza and leaned down to press her lips to her temple. “You’ve grown as a person, and if you had never undergone that growth or explored your ability to make decisions for yourself... what do you think that you would have done?”

It was Cadenza’s turn to sigh. She knew what her aunt was getting at, and her heart constricted in her chest as she thought of the person she was when she left Venterre. “I would have done what I always did.” She squeezed her eyes shut as the tears started to leak from them. “I would have done exactly what I was told.”

Hearing what she had suspected all along confirmed, Ginevra wrapped her arms tightly around her crying niece. It killed her to think that her while her departure from Venterre all those years ago had been the right choice for her, the choice that had freed her, it had set the stage for the exploitation of the next magically-gifted child to be born into their family: Cadenza. Although it was now clear to Ginevra that the exploitation of her niece had been much darker than anything she had experienced. And despite what she had just told Cadenza, Ginevra _did_ blame herself for letting it get so bad. All the while mumbling reassurances in Venterrean, Ginevra stroked Cadenza’s wild curls and squeezed her own eyes shut as she, too, started to cry.

At first, the raven-haired magician had hesitated to return the embrace, but the harder she cried, the more desperately she clung to her aunt’s frame. Ginevra didn’t want to let go—not now and not when the time came for Cadenza to return to Venterre. But she knew that she would have to let go eventually. Both literally and metaphorically. Too many people had tried to decide Cadenza’s life on her behalf, and Ginevra was not about to be another one of those people. Gods, what were they going to do? For once in her life, Ginevra had no idea of what was going to happen next. A clairvoyant was afraid of what the future held. In any other circumstances, Ginevra would have found the simple fact hilarious.

“Cadenza.” Ginevra spoke softly and without letting go of her niece. “Do you want to go back?”

“I have to go back. It’s home.”

“Home is wherever you make it, wherever you feel like you’re at home.” Ginevra pulled away slightly and wiped away some of the tears from Cadenza’s flushed cheeks. “Do you _want_ to go back to Venterre?”

“ _Non lo so._ ” Cadenza shook her head. She was exhausted, sleep had its hooks in her again. “ _Non lo so, zia._ ”

With her eyes still leaking tears and her aunt’s arms still wrapped around her in a way that her own mother had not done for her in forever, Cadenza drifted off. As she plummeted through empty darkness, she hoped that whichever dream she ended up in would at least offer her a temporary escape from the awful memories that her conversation with her aunt had dredged up. Unfortunately for Cadenza, she would have no such luck. Her nightmares were worse than ever. It seemed that the universe was not quite ready to cut her some slack.

✧ ✧ ✧

It was dark outside when Cadenza opened her eyes again. She didn’t feel well-rested at all, but she simply could not sleep any longer. She was lying on her stomach again and had to resist the urge to jump slightly in surprise when she nearly jostled Asra—who had slumped forward in his chair so that the upper half of his body rested on the bed—in the process of rolling over onto her back. She moved as carefully as she could so as to not disturb her sleeping friend and ended up settling on her side with her knees curled up close to her chest.

Cadenza had never really paid any attention to Asra while he slept and she felt like looking at him now was an intrusion of sorts. When people slept, they were vulnerable and she wasn’t sure whether observing someone as they did so was equivalent to crossing an invisible line drawn in the sand. She should really roll over onto her other side and look out the window rather than at Asra. Or she should just try to will herself to go back to sleep. But she didn’t. And couldn’t. So she proceeded to look at her friend.

There were dark shadows under Asra’s eyes that Cadenza had never noticed before and although his white hair glowed in the moonlight, there was something dull about its shine and it didn’t look fluffy so much as it did unkempt and greasy. His skin had also lost its healthy glow and the reddish-pink that typically tinged his cheekbones during his waking hours had all but gone. To put it plainly, Asra looked as though he had gone through the fucking wringer. Cadenza bit the inside of her cheek—this was all because of her.

Asra woke up with a start, inhaling sharply as he sat up in his chair and scaring the daylights out of Cadenza—who started to let out a yelp only to cut herself off by clapping a hand over her mouth—in the process. The formerly fluffy-haired blinked his eyes rapidly, as if trying to chase off the residual sleep, and met Cadenza’s gaze with a mixture of shock and relief gleaming in his violet eyes. He parted his lips, looking very much like he wanted to say something, only to press them together again almost immediately.

The pair of magicians stared at each other in silence, fighting to keep their gazes fixed on each other’s eyes as opposed to each other’s lips that had pressed together for the first time not too long ago. They were so close and yet so far from one another. The silvery beams of the moon weren’t enough to cut through the tension that had made itself at home in the heavy air between them. Asra was the first to look away, his expression pained, and it was the sadness that tugged at the corners of his mouth that finally compelled Cadenza to break the silence.

“When I first showed you around the shop, I told you that I was the way that I was because I had an accident. That was a lie,” she admitted. “The truth is that my magical abilities go beyond animancy. I’m a necromancer, as well. At least, I _was_ one. I haven’t practiced necromancy since I left Venterre.”

Asra got up from his chair and sat down carefully on the bed to be closer to Cadenza, folding his legs under him. “Enza,” he whispered, “you don’t have to.”

“I know—I _want_ to.” The raven-haired magician pressed her lips together and sat up with a grunt. “I want you to know about me, I trust you enough to tell you these things about me.”

“Okay.” Asra nodded slowly, resting a hand on the sheets such that his pinky finger was only a hair’s breadth away from touching Cadenza’s. “I’m listening.”

Nodding more to herself than anyone else, Cadenza took a deep, trembling breath, and told her friend everything. She told him about how she had learned of her magical abilities when she was six years old and how, rather than supporting her and encouraging her to safely explore her talents, her parents had looked at them as something to exploit in order to elevate their status. She told him about the subsequent isolation that she had experienced when her parents distanced her from her siblings and from the rest of Venterre, seemingly.

When the time came to tell Asra about how, exactly, she had started to practice necromancy given that her natural affinity had always been for animancy and how things had spiralled from there, her eyes leaked tears. The truth was that she was ashamed. Of all of her emotions that had gradually faded over the years (and that had only just started to return to her), shame was one of the few that had never left her. She felt it so profoundly that her shoulders shook as she spoke. Her face was so uncharacteristically warm that she thought she might combust.

By the time she got through it all,—the things that she had done in Venterre at the behest of her parents, all of the people that she had hurt because of her inability to stand up for herself, and everything that had happened with Quaestor Valdemar since their first interaction at the Masquerade—Cadenza could no longer see through her tears. She let her head fall forward, didn’t bother to push back her dark curls when they fell in front of her face. She wanted to hide. She wanted to disappear. She wasn’t sure that she would be able to stand to see how Asra was looking at her.

The mattress creaked slightly as Asra moved closer to Cadenza. His brushed the back of Cadenza’s hand lightly with his fingertips. “Enza, can you look at me? Please?”

Cadenza wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand and glanced at Asra from under her wet, dark lashes. He was sitting directly in front of her, he was so close that she could feel his warm breath that felt cool by comparison against her overheated skin. He was as close to her as he had been when they had shared a kiss. She watched him lift his hands slowly, observed the slight tremble in them, and inhaled shakily when he cupped her face in them. He leaned in closer still to rest his forehead against her sweaty one, his eyelids fluttering shut as he breathed in slowly.

“I am so sorry that you went through that” he whispered, his voice wavering. “I still stand by what I said all those months ago: it wasn’t your fault. You were a child and your parents took advantage of the faith that you had in them to do right by you for their own gain.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I hurt people.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Asra opened his eyes and looked directly into Cadenza’s red-rimmed ones. “But you can’t change the past, the only thing that you can still influence is your future through your actions in the present.”

“I don’t know that it’s enough.” Cadenza’s voice cracked. “I don’t know that it’s enough to make up for all the things that I’ve done.”

Without breaking eye contact, Asra took one of Cadenza’s hands in his, and pressed it to his chest: right over his heart. “I’m still here thanks to you,” he said quietly. “It’s enough. You’re enough.”

Cadenza inhaled sharply as she slowly realized that Asra _saw_ her. He saw her not as someone whose magic he could exploit or as someone to pity for the cards that she had been dealt, he saw her as _herself:_ as Cadenza and nothing more or less. She felt naked under his amethyst gaze. She was as frightened as she was comforted by the knowledge. It was only when she felt her lips brush against the corner of his mouth that she realized that she had been leaning in slowly, that he had been leaning in as well, and she bunch the fabric of his shirt up in his fist as she turned her head to the side.

“I can’t,” she murmured. “Not right now.”

“It’s okay.” Asra pulled away. He didn’t look hurt at all.

“I’m sorry.”

“I understand.” A long pause ensued before Asra spoke again. “All I want is to support you. Even if we’ll only ever be friends.”

Cadenza bit her bottom lip. “Thank you.” She touched Asra’s cheek. “But, um. I thought you should know that I like how I feel not so alone when I’m with you.”

Asra fought the urge to smile. “I’m glad to hear it.” He leaned back on his hands, ending the contact between him and Cadenza. He sobered his expression, growing serious. “Your aunt told me that your time in Vesuvia is almost up.”

Anything good that Cadenza had been feeling up until that moment evaporated at the mere mention of her impending decision. “Let me guess: you want to know what I’m going to do.”

“How can you go back to them when they did those things to you?” Cadenza shrugged and Asra’s eyebrows drew together. “What _are_ you going to do?”

Cadenza slumped back onto the pillows and looked up at the ceiling, at the walls, at anything other than Asra—who was still looking at her. “I don’t know.” She pressed her palms against her puffy eyes. “I just don’t know.”


	27. Postcards from Italy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cadenza says goodbye... but not to everyone that she had been planning to say it to.

It took Cadenza a while to recover. The days that she spent in bed or shuffling around the shop went by too quickly and at the same time, the hours felt as though they were passing agonizingly slowly. It was a paradoxical occurrence that she could not wrap her head around even if she were to try. September fifth, her birthday, came and went quietly—without fanfare other than a fresh butter tart from Selasi’s bakery and a tight smile offered to her by her aunt that had been meant to be reassuring. She wasn’t upset over how her birthday was celebrated, however, she was more so upset by what it meant.

The raven-haired magician turning nineteen meant that her year in Vesuvia had come to an end, and that it was time for her to return to Venterre with only a vague idea of what was awaiting her upon arrival since her parents had not written to her once that whole year. They didn’t even send a letter to inquire about _how_ she would be making her return. It was clear that they didn’t particularly care about the time that she had spent in Vesuvia, that they simply expected her to leave a place that had been her home for a year without any issues and return to take her place in the twisted tableau.

The day after her nineteenth birthday, Cadenza had packed her bags. The day after that, she said her goodbyes to Selasi and the stove salamander, and sent a letter to Count Lucio informing him that she would ~~regrettably~~ be unable to attend to his physical ailments from that point onward. By early afternoon on September seventh, Cadenza sat on her suitcase by the door and fiddled with the key that she had always kept tucked away on her person while she waited for her aunt to finish up with a client in order to say a proper goodbye to her as well.

“Going somewhere?”

Cadenza closed her fingers around the key and lifted her head to see Asra coming down the stairs. “Very funny. You know that I’ll be leaving imminently.”

“I do.” Asra tugged on his boots and made his way over to the counter, doing his best to lean against the glass casually when all he wanted to do was fidget with whatever he could get his hands on. “I still can’t believe it, though.”

“That I decided to go through with it?” Cadenza asked, raising an eyebrow at Asra, but he doesn’t take the bait. She sighed. “I’m not sure that I believe it, myself, if I’m being honest. But I can’t abandon them without a word—they’re my family and it wouldn’t feel right.”

A slightly tense silence settled over Cadenza and Asra, and the pair pretended like they were paying attention to anything other than each other. But they _were_ paying attention to each other and they were not at all subtle about it, either. Cadenza was looking at Asra and thinking about the time that he had slept beside her and wrapped his arms around her that night where she couldn’t move... she thought about the kiss that they had shared and the consequent conversation that had taken place in the dark, while she was recovering from the magic that she had used on Quaestor Valdemar. She would miss him. Leaving him firmly in her past was going to be very difficult.

Asra was thinking of _similar_ things, but he was doing his best not to focus too much on his feelings. Today was about Cadenza, not him—he couldn’t make it about him by letting his emotions get the better of him. He was also thinking about how unsettling it was to see Cadenza in anything other than one of her colourful, embroidered dresses. She was wearing a plain beige dress today, one that went down to the middle of her shins and revealed that her typical sandals had been replaced with dark boots that laced. Her chest was completely covered, too, something that was highly unusual as well.

The fluffy-haired magician realized that his friend was dressed for travel, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that her plain clothing was also a reflection of what her parents expected of her when she returned: for her to suppress any and all of her individuality in order to fit the mold that they had constructed for her. It made him more than a little bit angry to think about, but he bit his tongue and exhaled slowly through his nose instead. Today wasn’t about him. He wasn’t going to make it about him.

“Thank you for stopping by,” Ginevra said as she breezed out of the backroom where she did her readings with a client on her arm. “Always a pleasure to read your tea leaves—you have fantastic taste when it comes to the blends that you bring over.”

“Of course, only the best leaves for you to read,” the client replied with a grin, allowing herself to be escorted to the door. “See you in two weeks? Usual time?”

“Come now, dear.” A smile tugged at Ginevra’s own rouged lips. “We have a standing appointment.”

The pair shared a conspiratorial look that both Cadenza and Asra pretended not to see. They both offered the client polite nods as she left, turning their gazes to the ceiling while Ginevra bid goodbye to the woman who was perhaps more than a client. When the door finally _clicked_ shut, the young magicians let out a breath that they didn’t know that they had been holding and then tensed up all over again when they realized what time it was: time for Cadenza to leave. Asra folded his arms across his chest and looked down at his feet while Ginevra wrapped her arms around her niece.

“ _Sei proprio sicura, tesoro?_ ” Ginevra whispered, the meaning of her words was lost on Asra. “ _Non devi tornare laggiù se non vuoi._ ”

“ _Scusa, zia,_ ” Cadenza murmured. “ _Ma è la mia scelta, e l’ho fatta._ ”

“ _Capisco._ ” Ginevra took a step back, resting her hands on top of Cadenza’s shoulders and squeezing them gently. “You’ve come so far this year—I’m proud of you.”

Cadenza looked away, fighting against the tears that were welling up in her eyes. They were still slightly watery when she managed to look at her aunt again. “Thank you.” She pressed her lips together. “I, um, I don’t know how to say goodbye.”

Ginevra wiped at her eyes. “You’re doing great, Enzina.”

“I love you very much.” Cadenza wrapped her arms around her aunt and pulled her closer in a ferocious hug. “I will miss you very much.”

“I love you, too.” Ginevra sniffled loudly, but she was still trying to keep it together for Cadenza. “And I’ll miss you, too.” She squeezed her niece’s body tightly. “I lost touch with our family a long time ago, but... I’m glad that I got to know you.”

It was Cadenza who pulled away first, still desperately holding back tears. “Thank you for welcoming me into your home when you didn’t have to.”

“I know that I didn’t have to—I wanted to.”

A small smile graced Cadenza’s lips briefly only to disappear when she grew serious, extending the hand in which she held the key to the black chest in the study to her aunt. “I want you to have this.”

“Is this for...?” Ginevra trailed off, waited for Cadenza to offer the information on her own accord or to change topic.

“Yes, it’s for the chest that I shoved into the corner of your study. I was foolish to think that you wouldn’t notice.” Cadenza pressed the key into her aunt’s open palm. “The things that I stored in there shouldn’t be shared. You’re the only one that I trust to keep it all safe and out of the wrong hands.” She looked over at Asra, who was still leaning against the counter, but who seemed to be doing his best to stay out of a private moment. “And you. I trust you, too, Asra.”

Asra’s curls bounced when he turned his head to meet Cadenza’s intense gaze. “Me?” He blushed. “I- Thank you.”

It was at that point that Cadenza realized that she had yet to really acknowledge Asra meaningfully—how she had yet to tell him how much his company meant to her those past few months and had yet to bid him any sort of goodbye. The raven-haired magician drifted from her aunt’s side in order to place herself directly in front of her friend, cautiously taking his hands in her own and brushing her thumbs across his knuckles in a way that she hoped didn’t cross any lines. They had talked, sure, but... where did they stand with each other, really? Cadenza could never be too sure.

She parted her lips, her goodbye on the tip of her tongue, only for Asra to interrupt her before she could get so much as a single word out. “You don’t have to say anything to me. Not yet.” Asra glanced at Ginevra before fixing his amethyst gaze on Cadenza once more. He took a deep breath before speaking. “You won’t be travelling alone.”

Cadenza blinked and cocked her head to the side, confused. “I’m sorry, what?”

Ginevra swooped in, settling her hands on Cadenza’s shoulders once more. “I had been meaning to talk to you about your plan to travel back to Venterre on your own, _cara._ ” She pressed a swift kiss to her niece’s cheek and her familiar, Contessina, nibbled on a raven curl. “You’ve recovered well since what happened happened, but I still worry.”

“ _Zia._ ” Cadenza felt her cheeks heat and she avoided Asra’s gaze for a few seconds before giving in and meeting it. “Are you serious?”

“Yes?” He cleared his throat. “Yes.” He turned around quickly, showing off a small travelling knapsack that he had packed without Cadenza noticing. “You may have come to Vesuvia on your own, but you don’t need to leave it on your own.”

Cadenza pressed her lips together and looked to Ribbit—who had made himself comfortable at the bottom of a patchwork bag that she would soon be slinging over her shoulder—for guidance. Her familiar merely stared at her with his big, dark eyes. _He has a point, Cadenza,_ he practically squeaked in her mind. _You hated travelling alone with me. You were always on edge._

Ribbit wasn’t exaggerating. In fact, he was probably downplaying things. Despite how glad Cadenza had been to get out of Venterre for a while, travelling to Vesuvia by herself with only Ribbit by her side was nerve-wracking. She had never realized how anxious she was about the vastness of the world until she was out in it on her own. Suddenly, anything could potentially happen to her. That uncertainty that she had experienced with respect to what was waiting for her around every bend in the road had left her in a perpetually sweaty state regardless of the wintry temperatures.

The raven-haired magician looked at Asra again, assessing his blushing face for a few moments. She hated to admit to any sort of weakness, but for some reason... Asra’s soft smile and blushing cheeks smoothed away the worried wrinkle between her eyebrows. Before she really knew what she was doing, Cadenza was trailing her hands up to his elbows and pressing herself against him in a semi-awkward hug that didn’t feel awkward so much as it felt like home after a couple of seconds. When she pulled away, she was smiling a little bit, too.

“Okay.”

Asra raised an eyebrow. “Hm?”

Cadenza pressed her fingers into Asra’s shoulder, prodding him in a manner that could only be construed as teasing. “ _Okay,_ you can come with me.”

“Really?”

Cadenza looked to the door. Her heart was already heavy from having to leave her aunt, the shop, and Vesuvia behind. She swallowed hard, fought to keep the sudden onslaught of emotions out of her voice when she spoke again. “Really.” She looked into Asra’s earnest eyes, watched them narrow when his smile grew bigger and brighter. “I don’t want to be alone. Not this time.”


	28. Landscape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cadenza and Asra settle down for the night only to end up feeling their feelings instead.

Although the area of Venterre where Cadenza and her family lived was not far from Vesuvia, it was still far enough away that the raven-haired magician and her fluffy-haired companion were forced to make a stop at an inn on their way there. The decision had been made not because they were tired, but rather because of the inky darkness that had descended upon the countryside. Unlike in Vesuvia, where lamps lined the streets and whose warm, flickering flames cut through the darkness of night, nighttime where they found themselves was pitch black for the exception of a rare candle flickering in a window.

While Asra got himself ready for bed in the small room that they had secured at the inn, Cadenza stood by the window; gazing into the darkness. They hadn’t left Vesuvia that long ago and she already missed her aunt. It was a loss that she felt in her chest, pressing down, down, down with so much pressure that she thought that her ribs would bend and break beneath it. She had never missed anyone like this before—she hadn’t missed her mother or father, or siblings at all, really, while she was away. Unsure of what to make of the realization, Cadenza sighed audibly.

“I miss Zia Nevra.”

Asra finished pulling on his pants and wandered over to Cadenza’s side. “I’m sure she misses you, too.”

“Mm,” Cadenza hummed in answer, it was all she could do considering the burning sensation in her throat.

“Are you ready for bed?” Asra asked, changing the subject.

“Yes.” Cadenza sniffed, still gazing out the window as though looking for her aunt, the shop... Vesuvia. “Just give me one more minute. Please.”

“Okay.”

The pair of magicians stood side by side in silence. It was a heavy silence, one that muffled the breaths that they took, their heartbeats, and the sound of tears splashing onto the windowsill. Asra kept his gaze fixed on the night sky and the stars that speckled it such that Cadenza could feel her feelings in private. After a few moments of listening to her soft sniffles, however, he tentatively rested a hand on her shoulder. When she didn’t flinch or shy away from his touch, he squeezed gently in an attempt to reassure her. He was there for her, he wanted her to know that he would _always_ be there for her—especially now that their time together was apparently running out.

“I’m ready, Asra.”

“All right.” Asra squeezed Cadenza’s shoulder again before dropping his hand. “What time did you want to set out tomorrow morning?”

Cadenza wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, drawing in a sharp breath before answering: “One hour after sunrise.”

Asra whistled. “Wow, yeah, hopefully sleep will come quickly.”

Their room at the inn was dark, so very dark, when they turned away from the window. The flame in the lone oil lamp that sat on the bedside table had burned low, casting their surroundings in a very dim, orange-hued light. The magicians reached for each other’s hands instinctively as they made their way to the bed, perhaps in a misguided attempt to prevent each other to bumping into objects that neither of them could make out in the low light. They only separated once they reached the bed, letting go of each other’s hands in order to climb into it from opposite sides.

Cadenza and Asra had assumed that sharing a real bed would be no different than sharing a sleeping mat (which they _had_ done before). It was only as they they settled in that they realized what a foolish assumption that had been. Although they had been closer to one another when they had shared a sleeping mat, there was something about lying on their backs side by side and staring at the ceiling together that made the air between them hum. Invisible, identical weights pressed down on them, and they found themselves wholly unable to close their eyes let alone fall asleep.

“Enza?” Asra whispered, rolling onto his side and gazing at his friend’s profile.

Cadenza rolled onto her side as well and gazed directly into her friend’s amethyst eyes. “Yes?”

“Can I...,” Asra trailed off, hesitating. He exhaled slowly and swallowed his nerves. “Can I hear _Salice piangente?_ ”

“I mentioned that to you once and you remembered?” Cadenza propped herself up on one elbow and lifted an eyebrow, surprised. A smile tugged at her lips. “I would love to play something for you.”

“Really?” It was Asra’s turn to prop himself up on one of his elbows. His excitement was clear in his tone.

“Really.” Cadenza climbed out of bed and felt her way across the room to the table where she had placed her violin case. “But I’m not going to play _Salice piangente_ —to be honest, I don’t feel that it suits me anymore.”

“Oh.” Asra couldn’t help feeling briefly disappointed, but the feeling was soon replaced with curiosity. “What are you going to play instead?”

“Something that I’ve been working on more recently.” Cadenza swallowed hard and opened up her case, gently lifting her violin from the soft interior. “It’s called Asra’s Interlude.”

The fluffy-haired magician’s heart leapt up from his chest to occupy his throat upon hearing the title that Cadenza had given her newest piece. If it hadn’t been completely quiet inside their room and outside of it when she had uttered it out loud, he would have assumed that he had misheard her. But no, she had spoken clearly and Asra had heard her _perfectly_ clearly since his heartbeat had not yet made its way into his ears, either. Still, he could not believe that she had named a piece after him. He couldn’t quite believe that he was going to _hear_ the piece, either... even as he watched her place her chin on top of the chinrest and carefully lift her bow.

It was as she was softly humming snippets of the piece that she was about to play for Asra that Cadenza realized that this was the first time she was playing something _for_ him in no uncertain terms. It wasn’t the first time she was playing the violin in front of him, but it was the first time that she conscious of his presence in the room and of his gaze tracking her movements. She wasn’t sure that she had ever felt this electrified at the prospect of playing music for someone. The raven-haired magician’s fingers trembled slightly, but after taking a few measured breaths, she started to play.

The pieces that Cadenza typically favoured were complex, and there was always something heavy or forlorn about the melody. But the one that had poured out of her not too long ago, the one that she had rushed to transcribe, the one that she had named after Asra, her friend... it was light. Bright. _Warm._ The melody seemed to wrap around her like a pair of sturdy arms welcoming her home after she had spent a long, long time wandering in the dark and in the cold. It elevated her, made her feel like she was filled with dragonflies that would help her take flight to somewhere better.

When she was done playing, Cadenza was forced to lean against the wall behind her as she wasn’t certain whether her legs would be able to bear her weight any longer. She was crying again, she could feel the tears streaking down her cheeks and splashing down onto her bare feet, but she didn’t feel like she typically felt when she cried. These were tears of catharsis. She didn’t wipe at her eyes, she didn’t try to hide from Asra—who she knew was still watching her closely. No, she just set aside her violin, laughed, and let herself cry.

Through her tears, Asra was nothing more than a hazy outline with stark white curls and piercing violet eyes. He collapsed at her feet and wrapped his arms around her thighs, leaning his head against her hipbone. He was crying, too, something that Cadenza only realized when his tears soaked through her nightgown. She wound her fingers through his curls, traced her calloused fingers down the line of his quivering jaw. She _did_ and _didn’t_ understand why he was crying at the same time. All she knew for certain was that they were sharing something in the moment, something that neither of them would soon forget.

“You could have named it anything,” Asra murmured, his lips tickling Cadenza’s abdomen through the delicate fabric of her nightgown. “But you named it after me. Why?”

Cadenza curled her fingers more tightly in Asra’s soft locks. “It sounds like you make me feel. That’s why I named it after you.”

A pause ensued and Asra choked back a sob. “Enza,” he whimpered.

“Yes?” she answered, sounding breathless because she _was_ breathless.

“Why are you going back to the place where you’ve been hurt?”

“Because I need closure.” Cadenza clenched her jaw. “Otherwise, I’ll be haunted for the rest of my life.”

“Enza.”

“Mm?”

“ _Will you come back with me?_ ”

Cadenza sank down to her knees and pressed her cool forehead against Asra’s warm one. “I don’t know.” She shook her head and her dark curls fell around them like a curtain. “I don’t know yet.”

“But there’s a chance?”

Cadenza inhaled sharply and closed her eyes. Asra’s Interlude filled her mind and quieted the dark rumbling of her thoughts. She exhaled shakily through her nose. “Yes.” She wrapped her arms around her friend, let him hold her tightly to his chest. “Yes, there’s a chance.”


	29. Blinding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cadenza returns to her family’s villa in Venterre and very quickly finds that things are very different from how she remembers them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning(s): guilt-tripping, possible manipulation.

Looking at the sprawling villa nestled in the Venterrean countryside in which Cadenza and her family had lived for the majority of the former’s life, one would never guess what awful things had transpired on the property. Looking at the flawless stonework and beautiful, blooming flowers, the thought that terrible _could_ and _had_ happened there would never cross one’s mind. Cadenza knew—Cadenza _couldn’t_ forget, and she was rooted in place several yards away from the large front door as memories crept out of the dark recesses of her mind and into the light, begging to be acknowledged. She gritted her teeth, clenched her fists so tightly that her blunt fingernails cut into her palms and drew blood.

“Wow.” Asra shook his head, almost in disbelief, and the sound of his voice drew Cadenza out of her trance. “ _This_ is where you lived?”

“For over ten years, yes,” Cadenza replied woodenly. Her jaw was so tense that speaking was difficult. “Just... remember that appearances can be deceiving.”

“I won’t forget.” Asra reached for Cadenza’s hand and laced their fingers together. “I promise.”

The walk to the front door felt several years long and Cadenza’s heart raced the entire time. Although it wasn’t all that hot outside, sweat trickled down her back anyway. She felt cold and damp all over, and she shivered when a breeze that smelled of earth and rain ruffled her hair. The closer she got to the place she had never fully accepted as her home, the louder the ghosts that lived inside her head grew louder and the more aggressively they started to rattle the bars of the cages she tried so hard to keep them in. Dark spots swam across her field of vision, and she was forced to pause on the doorstep and lean heavily against Asra for a few seconds so as to not topple over.

“Hey, are you okay?” Asra whispered, wrapping an arm around Cadenza and rubbing her arm comfortingly.

Cadenza started to shake her head, stopped, and then nodded slowly. “I will be.” She met Asra’s gaze, her eyebrows drawn together. “This place has a certain effect on me, that’s all.”

Asra was still quite obviously concerned, but he didn’t push the issue further. After all, knowing _some_ of what had happened to Cadenza didn’t make him an expert on the ins and outs of her dynamic with her family. He was there to quietly support her, not to push her toward confrontation or away from it. With that in mind, he offered her a soft yet somewhat strained smile, squeezed her shoulders, and stepped aside. He forced himself to look at her as she walked right up to the door and lifted the heavy door knocker. The booming sound that it made when it hit the small metal plate that protected the wooden door set his teeth on edge.

The front door was too heavy for Cadenza to hear footsteps on the other side of it, so when it opened mere instants after she had knocked, she was more than a little bit startled. She stumbled back a step or two, and one of her hands shot up to her chest; her palm pressing hard against the spot beneath which she could feel her heart beating hard. It took her a few seconds too long to calm down, to catch her breath, and her eldest sister, Amata, had apparently grown tired of standing in the doorway. She turned away from Cadenza without offering her so much as a simple greeting.

“ _We’ve been waiting for you,_ ” Amata said in a tone that could only be described as flat. “ _Eliseo thought he had spotted you a while ago from one of the windows._ ” She glanced over her shoulder to see whether her younger sister and the stranger she had brought with her were following.“ _I suppose he was right._ ”

“Is she inviting us inside, or...?” Asra whispered to Cadenza, hesitating at the threshold.

Cadenza shook her head. “I couldn’t tell you whether she is actually _inviting_ us, but she does _expect_ us to follow her inside.”

“Ah.” Asra shrugged his shoulders. He was more than a little bit uncomfortable at the prospect of not understanding what was being said around him, but he did his best to push the feeling down for Cadenza’s sake. “I’ll just follow your lead, I guess,” he murmured.

“Good idea.” Cadenza reached for Asra’s hand and squeezed it gently. “Stay close to me, I’ll look out for you.”

It was a promise that Cadenza made with a surprising amount of confidence considering the circumstances. Her logic was that If she couldn’t look out herself when she was around her family, the least she could do was look out for Asra. He deserved better than the treatment that they likely had in store for him considering that he wasn’t a paying client. Then again, Cadenza knew that by standing up for him, she was likely opening herself up to snide looks and comments that would have her feeling like utter shit before long. And so, she took comfort in the feeling of Asra’s warm hand in hers for as long as possible before following her sister inside the villa.

The air inside the villa was stale, as if the windows hadn’t been opened in a while, and every vase that they walked past was filled with long-dead flowers. The wooden floors looked as though they hadn’t been polished in a long time, either, and the elegant carpets looked slightly ratty and not nearly as colourful as when Cadenza had left. On the whole, everything looked darker and older than the raven-haired magician remembered. In the span of a year, it seemed like her family had given up on maintaining appearances. This unsettled her deeply, for many reasons, and she suppressed a shiver.

Her family was waiting in the informal dining room that projected out of the side of the villa and was connected to the kitchen as well as one of the sitting rooms. The walls and ceiling were composed of glass panes, which allowed them an unobstructed view of the gold-drenched countryside and the distant vineyards. Cadenza’s legs trembled slightly under her weight and she fought hard to remain standing while the other members of her family turned their attention away from the appetizers spread out on the table to her. Their expressions barely shifted at the sight of her.

They all looked slightly haggard and the clothes that they wore looked just a little bit too loose on their bodies. Although Cadenza had been gone only a year, her parents and siblings had changed significantly in appearance. Her parents had more silver and grey hairs than she remembered, and their wrinkles had seemingly multiplied as well. Amata, only twenty-six, looked to be in her mid-thirties and her auburn hair had lost its shine. Cadenza’s other older sister, Bria, looked like she had fared slightly better, but there were dark circles under her eyes that weren’t there before and her green eyes had lost their gleam.

Most jarring of all to Cadenza was the state of her younger brothers. Dante, who was only a year younger than her, looked significantly leaner (more so than any other member of her family) than when she had left and his black hair that had once mirrored hers in colouration no longer reflected slightly blue in the light, rather, it looked greasy and dull in colouration. Eliseo, on the other hand, was thirteen, and although he had fared better with respect to maintaining his physical appearance, his body language was all wrong. His shoulders slumped, there was a vacant look in his eyes. His expression made him look like a man who had lost everything.

“ _Enzina._ ” Cadenza’s mother, Gioia, finally stood up from her seat; snapping the raven-haired magician from her thoughts. “ _You’re back. And you’ve brought a guest?_ ”

Cadenza looked at Asra, who shuffled his feet uncertainly. “ _This is Asra._ ” He perked up slightly at the sound of his name. “ _He’s my colleague and friend._ ”

“ _Colleague?_ ” Cadenza’s father, Oliviero, raised an eyebrow.

“ _Friend?_ ” Gioia narrowed her eyes.

“ _Yes, to both._ ” Cadenza cleared her throat and set down her suitcase, prompting Asra to set his travelling bag aside as well. “ _He’s accompanied me all the way from Vesuvia—I don’t think it would be fair to turn him away when nighttime is not too far off._ ”

Gioia exhaled slowly through her nose and sat back down. “ _Fine. He can stay until tomorrow morning. And he can sit with us, too, I suppose._ ” Her gaze flicked to Faust, whose head had popped out of Asra’s shirt, and then to Ribbit, who had hopped out of Cadenza’s patchwork bag to sit on top of her suitcase. “ _The animals go outside, though. Your friend might not know the rules, but you do. They don’t belong indoors._ ”

“Asra, Faust has to go outside.”

“What?” A panicked look crossed Asra’s face. “Why?”

“According to my parents, ‘animals don’t belong indoors.’” Cadenza squeezed Asra’s bicep in a manner she hoped came across as comforting. “Ribbit will look after her, everything will be okay.”

“I don’t... like it.”

“I know, and I apologize.”

“It’s okay. I know it’s not your fault.”

Asra let out a heavy sigh and hesitated a few moments longer before finally setting Faust on the floor beside Ribbit. He watched nervously as the pair of familiars slithered and hopped away. He was fine enough being apart from Faust in Vesuvia, but that was because they were both familiar with the area. Venterre, on the other hand, was uncharted territory for both of them and neither of them knew what sort of threats existed there other than Cadenza’s family. He swallowed his mounting trepidation with difficulty and followed Cadenza’s lead once more; settling down in the chair directly beside the one she claimed for herself.

“ _So,_ ” Gioia said, her expression serious, “ _will any clients be following you here from Vesuvia?_ ”

“ _No, I don’t think so._ ”

“ _Why not?_ ” Amata snapped. “ _What have you been doing this past year if not forming connections to support the business back home?_ ”

Cadenza shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “ _I have been working, but-_ ”

“ _But, what?_ ” Oliviero asked. His tone betrayed impatience and the way he loudly drummed his fingers against the table made his youngest daughter’s head hurt.

“ _The services that I offered in Vesuvia didn’t include resurrection of people’s loved ones,_ ” Cadenza replied bluntly, only to find herself regretting her choice of words almost immediately upon the looks given to her by her family. “ _It didn’t.... It wouldn’t have gone over well, believe me._ ”

“ _Are you kidding?_ ” Amata slammed her open palm against the table, rattling the cutlery, plates, and glasses. “ _Do you know what we had to give up while you were gone on your little vacation?_ ”

“ _Amata._ ” Gioia pointed a finger at her eldest, silencing her, before turning her focus back to Cadenza. “ _We made sacrifices while you were away doing Gods know what with your aunt and your friend. We had to adjust our lifestyle drastically—and for what? What do you have to show for all the time that you were away?_ ”

“ _I-_ ” Cadenza opened her mouth, shut it, opened it again, and shut it once more. She didn’t know how to defend herself from this line of questioning. She felt so small.

“ _We lost business because of your leave of absence. We lost money. We lost the means to support ourselves._ ”

“ _I had no idea, mamma,_ ” Cadenza murmured. “ _I’m sorry._ ”

“ _Sorry doesn’t cut it._ ” It was Bria who had spoken and Cadenza’s chest constricted. She had never been spoken to like that by her older sister. “ _We had to make deals with people in the village just to keep ourselves afloat. Some of the terms that we had to agree to... they were humiliating._ ”

“ _I didn’t think that my being gone for a year would impact you all that much._ ”

“That’s right, you didn’t think,” Gioia hissed. “ _That’s your problem, Enzina, you never think. You don’t know how to think for yourself and when you do, you make bad choices. You need us to keep you in check, because look at what happens when you’re left to your own devices._ ”

“ _I’m sorry._ ”

“ _Being sorry isn’t enough._ ” Oliviero was stern, exchanging glances with his wife. “ _We’re going to need twice the number of clients this year in order to make up what we lost this past one._ ”

“ _What?_ ” Cadenza wheezed. The last thing her father had said had practically knocked the breath out of her.

“ _Your father said that we’re going to need twice the number of clients this year in order to make up for the losses that you caused._ ”

“ _No._ ” Cadenza shook her head. “ _That can’t- That can’t be right._ ”

“ _Oh, it’s right, all right,_ ” Dante muttered, speaking up for the first time since Cadenza had returned. “ _Let’s hope that necromancy is still in high demand._ ”

“ _Yeah, after your friend leaves tomorrow, Bria and I are going to head into the village and see whether we can scrounge up any clients._ ” Amata sniffed loudly and turned her nose up. “ _You’re welcome in advance._ ”

“ _I haven’t practiced in a year, and I’m not sure that I want to start up again. In fact, I’m fairly certain that I do not want to practice necromancy anymore._ ”

Gioia waved a hand through the air dismissively. “Another bad decision, unsurprising. You’re lucky that you have us.” She looked to Amata and Bria. “ _We need to come up with a lot of money this year, see if you can get someone to come by tomorrow evening._ ”

“ _Mamma, I don’t want to do that stuff anymore._ ”

“ _What you want doesn’t matter!_ ” Gioia shouted. “ _You’re going to do what you’ve always done because it works for all of us. Quit being so selfish. Think about everything we’ve been deprived of while you were gone: help taking care of our home, fruit and spices from Prakra, clothing that isn’t falling apart at the seams.... You owe us, Enzina. You don’t get a say._ ”

Cadenza felt like she was dying. Her heart was working twice as hard as it should have been to pump her blood, her mind was foggy, her stomach was in knots. Every time her parents or siblings glanced in her direction, she felt like her skin was being peeled back to expose tender nerves. They knew exactly how to wound her without needing to be obvious about it, and now that Cadenza could _feel_ again, she found herself unable to withstand their scrutiny. She was on the verge of breaking down in front of them—something she had never done before, something that would give them far more ammunition than she ever wanted them to have.

The raven-haired magician stood up abruptly, her chair scraping loudly across the expensive wooden floorboards: an action that earned her especially sour looks from her mother and Amata. She swallowed hard, set her jaw, and arranged her features into a mask. She wanted to say something, anything, but found herself incapable of producing any sound. Everyone had stopped eating by then, all of them were waiting to see what she was going to do next. If she was being entirely honest, she wasn’t quite sure what she was about to do, either, and her mind raced as she tried to figure out her next move.

Her gaze instinctively travelled toward Asra, who looked as though he was about to stand up as well. The corners of her mouth twitched over seeing him so visibly concerned. His figure was quickly growing blurry from the tears gathering in her eyes, however, and she knew that she wouldn’t be able to hold it together for much longer. She shook her head at him subtly, indicating to him that she needed some time to herself before turning on her heels and rushing out of the room with one hand held up to shield her face from view.

She needed to be alone.

She needed to breathe.

She needed comfort.

And there was only one place that came to mind where she felt that she could achieve those things.

With tears now spilling freely down her cheeks, the raven-haired magician went straight for the garden.


	30. Long and Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cadenza really contemplates leaving Venterre and walking away from her family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning(s): talk of recovery from a harmful practice (necromancy, in this instance).

The sun was well on its way to setting when Asra found Cadenza sitting by a pond in the garden that extended behind the villa. The golden rays streaked across the shimmering surface of the water, but they did not touch her for she was shaded by the trunk and the weeping branches of a willow tree that seemed to bow toward the pond almost reverently. The fluffy-haired magician didn’t say anything as he walked across the springy grass so as to not disrupt the peace and quiet that had quite obviously prompted his friend to seek out the garden as a place of refuge from what had occurred within the walls of the villa not too long ago.

The pair of magicians sat together in silence with their legs folded under them and their gazes turned to either the horizon or the rippling surface of the pond. Although there wasn’t so much as a single cloud in the sky, there was a heaviness in the air that reminded Asra of the feeling that preceded a late summer storm in Vesuvia. A glance in Cadenza’s direction, however, revealed that her gaze was dark and slightly clouded, as though she wasn’t fully aware of her surroundings. So, maybe the storm wasn’t so much literal and imminent as it was presently playing out inside of the raven-haired magician’s head.

Time seemed to stand completely still in the garden. Asra could have sworn that the sun had not moved an inch since he had sat down next to Cadenza. It was frozen in the sky, just above the horizon, coating everything that its rays touched in gold leaf. It seemed that only the two magicians remained untouched by the celestial body’s warmth. Asra shifted in place and fought the urge to rub warmth into his arms as the chill of the rapidly approaching night licked at his exposed skin. He looked at Faust and Ribbit, who were curled up together in the sun just a few feet away, and swallowed the envy that threatened to come up. He had more important things to worry about than warming himself up.

“Enza?”

He said his friend’s name quietly, so as to avoid startling her. When she didn’t respond, he reached for her hand in order to give it a gentle squeeze. The moment his fingertips brushed against her skin, her eyes widened, and she snapped her head around to look at him as though she had only just become aware of his presence. After staring at him for a few beats,—her red-rimmed, watery eyes on full display—she threw her arms around him and hugged him so tightly that Asra found himself momentarily struggling to inhale fully. And then, within seconds, she was pushing him away all over again.

Asra opened his mouth instinctively to say something, to ask Cadenza what was on her mind, but forced himself to press his lips together. By now, he knew better than to try and force conversation out of her. Cadenza would open up when she was ready. In the meantime, the two magicians stared at the pond and the small orange fish that darted about beneath the surface. But while Asra fidgeted with the long blades of grass at the edge of the pond, Cadenza was eerily still. The more Asra thought about it, the more he found that her stillness was more unsettling than her silence. Cadenza was always moving her body in one way or another… and now, she wasn’t. _At all._

Eventually, Cadenza let out a long sigh and slumped forward. One of her knees started to bounce. “I was never really bothered by the way that my family spoke to me—before, I mean.” She pressed a hand against her knee in an attempt to stop its bouncing, but it started back up the moment she moved it aside. “Practicing necromancy dulled my emotions to the point that I couldn’t feel anything. The way in which the people closest to me addressed me really didn’t matter.”

Asra inched closer to Cadenza, his little finger brushing against hers where it rested in the grass. “What changed?”

“I… detoxed, I suppose? I didn’t practice necromancy the entire year that I spent in Vesuvia.” Cadenza ran a trembling hand through her curls. “I still couldn’t tell you exactly how I’m feeling more often than not, but I _do_ feel things now. _Profoundly._ Now, the way that other people treat me or talk to me isn’t something that I can discount or ignore.”

Asra winced and nodded his head in a way that he hoped came across as sympathetic. “I don’t know what your family said to you earlier, but I’m guessing that whatever it was hurt you.” He cleared his throat nervously. “Do you _want_ to talk about it?”

“I _do,_ but I have no idea where to begin.”

“Take your time, I’m not going anywhere.”

Cadenza offered Asra a shaky smile before turning her gaze back to the reflective surface of the pond. She exhaled slowly. “I don’t know if I can go back to living the way that I did for most of my life. If I stay here and start practicing necromancy again, I’ll eventually go back to being numb all the time.” She bit her bottom lip. “But on the inside, I will always be conflicted—trapped in a vicious cycle of longing for the life I now _know_ that I could have away from here.”

“Is that what you want?” Asra asked tentatively.

“No,” Cadenza answered without a beat of hesitation, surprising even herself. She tilted her head back to gaze at the darkening sky. “But I can’t just walk away. They’re my family… they depend on me.”

“Your parents placed a weight on your shoulders that you never should have had to bear.” Asra shook his head and turned it slightly in order to look at Cadenza’s profile. “I know a thing or two about too much responsibility too soon. You’re not a bad person for feeling like you can’t handle it—you were never meant to carry that burden. Enza, you were a _child._ ”

“If I walk away, I’m a witch. _Una strega._ ”

Asra frowned, confused. “What?”

“In Venterre, people who are capable of magic are classified one of two ways: magicians or witches. Magicians are supposedly good and virtuous, they’re the people who put their magic before themselves and use their gifts to support their family or community.” Cadenza clenched her fists as shame overwhelmed her, tearing up grass in the process. “Witches are wicked and make for good kindling, and they’re the people who put themselves before their magic. They’re the people who walk away, who turn their backs on needy family members and others.”

“Enza, that’s… Gods.” Asra inched closer to her and rested a hand on top of hers. “I had no idea things were like that out here.”

“It’s not the only reason why I’m afraid to walk away, but it certainly is one of them.” A pause. “I’m also worried about whether they’ll be able to look after themselves if I leave. Financially, I mean.”

A heavy silence settled over the pair of magicians and they cast their gazes in opposite directions. Cadenza looked toward the horizon, which was tinged with dark oranges and reds now that the sun had finally set. Asra looked toward the villa, whose stone bricks and windows looked as though they had been drenched in blood in the last reddish rays of light. From the outside, it looked like quite a lovely place to live. Comfortable. But Asra had seen how Cadenza’s body language had changed while she was inside, he saw how she was avoiding looking at the structure even now.

“Cadenza,” Asra said softly and then waited for her to acknowledge him. When she lifted her head to look at him, he proceeded. “In the eyes of your family, is your aunt a magician or a witch?”

“A witch.”

“Do _you_ think she’s a good person?”

Cadenza blinked and tilted her head to the side. “Of course I do. I love her.”

“What mattered more?”

“What do you mean?” Cadenza asked, frowning.

“What mattered more to you when you were forming an opinion about your aunt? Your own impressions of her or the views that your family held?”

“Obviously my own-” Cadenza cut herself off, realization dawning on her face. “Oh.”

“ _Oh._ ” Asra nodded. “So, what will it matter whether people here think of you as a magician or a witch? They can’t influence what people think of you from miles and miles away.”

“I guess not.” The raven-haired magician leaned forward to gaze into the pond, her eyes were drawn to the reflection of the villa in the water. “Who will look after my family if I leave?”

“They survived without you for a year, didn’t they?”

“They did, but… from what they told me, it sounded like they struggled.”

Asra leaned forward and tilted his head to the side, prompting Cadenza to look directly into his eyes. He reached out cautiously to touch her cheek. “You shouldn’t have to light yourself on fire just to keep others warm. The fact that you even want to try… it’s noble. But ultimately, it’s your parents’ responsibility to look after the people that they chose to bring into this world. It’s unfair of them to try to put the onus on you, instead.”

Another long silence ensued after Asra’s words—a long silence during which Cadenza digested what it was that he had just said and during which Asra found himself doing his best not to obsessively pick apart everything he had just said in his head. The sounds of crickets chirping and grass rustling in the summer breeze were the only things that could be heard. Night was falling rapidly now that the sun had finally set. Stars were starting to wink into existence overhead, appearing as brilliant white dots that seemed to ripple and grow on the darkened surface of the pond. If one ignored the context of the two magicians’ presence in the garden, it was shaping up to be a beautiful night.

Truth be told, Cadenza had never once considered the points that Asra had just raised, and it was more than a little bit jarring to realize all at once that the burden she had been made to bear had been unfairly placed on her shoulders. She shook her head and rolled her neck, cracking it, and ended up looking at the night sky. It was the same sky that she would gaze up at when she was a child, but the way that she felt when she looked at it now was different. She didn’t feel empty or lonely beneath the yawning darkness. No, she felt hopeful and her heart fluttered with excitement rather than trepidation.

“My future is in Vesuvia,” Cadenza said quietly, but confidently. “Not here. I’ll never grow or improve if I stay. If I stay, I’ll stagnate.” She turned her head to look at Asra. “I’m going to leave with you tomorrow. I’m going to walk away from this place and everything that it does to me.”

Before Asra had a chance to say anything or even to smile, Cadenza was cupping his face in her cool hands and drawing him in for a kiss. Despite the chill of the night air, the heat of summer bloomed anew between the magicians. Asra found himself parting his lips for Cadenza without any hesitation when she nipped at his bottom lip and he was pliable in her arms as she nudged him to lie back in the grass. His hands found her curls, the plush of her hips. Her hands found their way under his shirt and she straddled his body. When the raven-haired magician pulled away to catch her breath, Asra fought the urge to chase her lips with his even though he was panting as well.

“Thank you,” Cadenza murmured.

“For what?” Asra asked.

“For helping me see that there’s more to life than what I’m used to. For helping me see that I have options.”

Asra didn’t know how to reply. He looked away with a blush tinging his cheeks. “You’re welcome,” he eventually replied, under his breath.

Cadenza trailed her lips along the line of his jaw, eventually pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Come upstairs with me.”

“To sleep?”

“No, Asra. Not to sleep.”

“Oh.” Asra’s eyes widened. When he met Cadenza’s gaze again, the golden flecks in her eyes looked molten. His heart fluttered in his chest. “ _Oh._ ”


	31. The End of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cadenza and Asra seek each other out in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lemon: thigh-riding, vaginal fingering, and finger-sucking (Cadenza x Asra)

The villa was dead silent and completely dark by the time Cadenza and Asra crept inside from the garden. They held each other’s hands tightly as they climbed the staircase to the second floor and as they quietly navigated the maze of hallways that separated them from Cadenza’s room. Wooden floorboards creaked softly beneath their bare feet, but the crickets outside were chirping loudly enough to mask the sounds of them sneaking past doors silhouetted in the orangey light of flickering candles. By the time the pair of magicians reached Cadenza’s room, Asra’s heart was beating so hard that he almost didn’t hear his friend when she turned her head to address him.

“Do you still want to come inside?” she whispered. “There’s a guest room that I can make up for you, if you don’t-”

It was Asra’s turn to cut Cadenza off. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush to his chest, and tilted his head back slightly in order to capture her lips in a kiss that he hoped conveyed how much he wanted her… how certain he was about taking this step with her. She moaned against his mouth before parting her lips for him, gathering up fistfuls of his shirt in her hands as he traced the contours of her with his tongue. Her knees felt weak as they kissed and she gasped, hips stuttering forward suddenly, when he wedged one of his thighs between her legs. Asra wrapped his arms more tightly around her in response, his teeth grazing her bottom lip before he forced himself to pull away.

“I want you… but I don’t want to have sex with you in the hallway.”

Cadenza felt heat rush to her cheeks and she was silently grateful that Asra couldn’t properly see her face in the dark. “Right.” She cleared her throat and reached for the doorknob. “Come in.”

As Asra followed Cadenza into her room, part of him wanted to take a moment to inspect his surroundings, to see whether he would be able to recognize any hints of the Cadenza that he had gotten to know in Vesuvia in this place. He did neither of those things. The moment the door closed behind him, Cadenza was pressing him against it and grabbing at the hem of his shirt. He lifted his arms over his head without any hesitation, allowing her to pull the article of clothing off of him. After folding his shirt neatly and setting it aside, Cadenza’s hands were everywhere and nowhere at once. He hissed when she dug blunt fingernails into one of his biceps, let out a strangled sound when she trailed calloused fingertips across his ribs.

Their lips found each other again in the dark, heat sparking and growing between them as they kissed each other messily, silvery strings of saliva connecting them every time they parted for breath. Asra first tangled his fingers in Cadenza’s wild curls and then placed his hands on her shoulders. He tentatively hooked his thumbs under the straps of her dress. When she didn’t push him away, he slipped them aside and watched with his heart in his throat as the neutral-toned fabric pooled at her feet. The raven-haired magician cupped one of his cheeks against her hand and she tapped his chin with a cool thumb.

“Look at me.” She leaned in, lips ghosting against Asra’s. “I want you to look at me.”

After a few moments, Asra lifted his head. Although he had lived with her for several months in the fairly cramped quarters that were the shop’s second floor, he had always been mindful of her privacy. Sure, he had entertained fantasies in his head, but he had never actually seen more of her than what she had allowed. But now that she was standing in front of him, almost completely nude for the exception of underwear that were slung low on her hips, and she was asking him to look at her… he almost wasn’t sure where to begin. His gaze lingered at her collarbones, even though he had seen them many times before thanks to the cut of her dresses, and Cadenza took it upon herself to wind her fingers through his curls.

The raven-haired magician pressed herself against Asra, all the while peppering kisses along his jaw and down his throat. Her mouth was hot but her body was cool, and the contrasting sensations made Asra inhale sharply, tilting his head back so that it rested against the door. His hands found Cadenza’s hips and his fingers kneaded the soft fat that covered them, breathing a sigh of satisfaction when she whimpered against his skin. He moved his hands higher, trailed them up her sides until he reached her breasts. He cupped one and rolled her nipple between his fingers, relishing in the noise that escaped her when he did.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her feverishly, all the while turning her around slowly so that she was the one pressed against the door instead of him. He hissed softly when she tugged his hair from the roots, when she caught his bottom lip between her teeth. When he finally pulled away from her, it wasn’t to catch his breath. He nipped and kissed his way down the column of her throat, traced her collarbone with the tip of his tongue. Cadenza’s grip in his hair loosened when he dipped his head to kiss down the valley of her breasts. Eventually, he found himself on his knees, his lips tracing a path down Cadenza’s abdomen to the waist of her underwear.

“Wait,” Cadenza murmured, tugging gently on Asra’s soft curls. “I want… I want you to put your leg between mine again.”

Arousal sparked at the base of Asra’s spine and shot up at Cadenza’s directness. He trailed his hands up the backs of her thighs until he reached her ass and nipped at the flesh that covered her hip bone before rising to his feet. He met her gaze, a smirk tugging at his lips when he glimpsed the blush colouring her freckled cheeks—for once, he had been the one to fluster her and not the other way around. After leaning in to press a teasing kiss to the corner of her mouth, he carefully wedged one of his thighs between her own. The raven-haired magician ground herself against him tentatively, her hands gripping his biceps, and a moan filtered past her lips at the pleasurable feeling that the friction created.

“You like that, huh?” Asra whispered, his breath tickling the side of Cadenza’s face.

Cadenza rolled her hips and only barely managed to hold back another moan. “Y-Yes.”

“What do you say we move this to your bed?”

Cadenza nodded, bottom lip caught between her teeth. Her grip on Asra’s biceps was tight, like she was afraid she would not be able to hold herself upright if she let go. “Okay.”

They didn’t let go of each other for so much as a second as they made their way over to the bed nestled in the corner of the room. The kisses they shared were greedy, open-mouthed, and heated as they stumbled across the cold hardwood floor. By the time they reached the bed, Asra had dispensed with his pants and underwear; leaving him vulnerable to the chill of the room and Cadenza’s intense, wandering gaze. The raven-haired magician pressed Asra into the mattress, her hands planted on his shoulders. She dipped her head to kiss down his sternum, licking and sucking subtle marks into his smooth skin.

“Enza-” Asra cut himself off with a moan when she slipped a hand between his thighs, her fingers tracing his labia. “Y-You wanted to ride me, didn’t you?”

“I want you to feel good, too.”

“I will feel good.” Asra wrapped his fingers around Cadenza’s arms and moved her so that she lay on her side, her back against the wall. He leaned in, a grin tugging at his kiss-swollen lips as he dragged her underwear down her legs. “When you ride me like you asked.”

As soon as Cadenza was bare to him, Asra wedged a thigh between hers once again. The magicians groaned almost in unison. Although she was cold everywhere else, Cadenza’s cunt was wet and hot against Asra’s thigh. For a few beats, he found himself wondering whether she had thought of doing this before, with _him,_ but his mind soon went blank when Cadenza started to grind against him. Her arousal slicked his skin as she moved and a moan tore free from her when she found just the right angle to stimulate her clit. Still cognizant of the fact that they were at risk of being overheard, Asra pressed his lips to Cadenza’s in order to swallow the noises that escaped her—he really did not wish to be interrupted.

He kept his eyes half-open as he kissed her: observing the way her chest rose and fell erratically, the way she scrunched her eyes shut whenever something felt particularly good, the way her body trembled when she clenched his thigh between her own. She was beautiful in the moonlight, her freckled skin flushed and slick with sweat as she worked herself up and down his thigh at a rhythm that could only be described as erratic. Asra grabbed her hips to help grind her against him and she tossed her head back, nearly hitting the wall, when he moved a hand between her legs, thumb dancing across her clit.

“What do you need?” Asra asked, dragging his teeth down Cadenza’s throat.

Cadenza swallowed a groan and wound her fingers through her own hair as if to ground herself. “Wh-What do you mean?”

“ _To come._ What do you need?”

“I don’t- I-” Cadenza shook her head. She couldn’t think, not while she was grinding against Asra’s thigh with wild abandon, not while his thumb was circling her clit like _that._

“Touch yourself for me, Enza.” Asra moved his thigh and rolled onto his back, pulling Cadenza on top of him to straddle his hips. “Touch yourself exactly the way you like.”

The raven-haired magician bit her bottom lip. She took a moment to admire Asra pinned beneath her: his glowing white curls fanned out across the pillow beneath his head, the soft amethyst of his eyes as he looked up at her from under his lashes, the unsteady rise and fall of his chest as he waited for her to do something. Without breaking eye contact, Cadenza trailed a hand down her abdomen, her fingers slipping through dark curls. Her breath hitched when she plunged her middle finger into her pussy. She raised her free hand to her mouth to cover it and muffle the sounds that spilled from her lips as she fingered herself.

“You’re doing so well, Enza,” Asra whispered, stroking Cadenza’s trembling thighs. “Are you ready for another finger?”

Cadenza nodded, but didn’t answer out loud. She was stimulated and her walls stretched easily to accommodate another finger. And another still. Asra’s eyes widened and his blunt fingernails dug into her thighs. He had to bite back a moan of his own as he imagined that it was him who was three fingers deep inside of her… or that she was three fingers deep inside of him. The raven-haired magician fucked down onto her fingers, rolling her hips all the while. Heat pooled in her abdomen, so intense that she thought she might combust, as her calloused fingertips rubbed up against _just_ the right spot inside her.

She came with a soft cry against her palm, the muscles of her thighs twitching and her body spasming as she rode out the waves of her orgasm. Asra hummed softly beneath her, his thumbs rubbing circles against her skin and his fingertips tracing her stretch marks. The raven-haired magician slipped her fingers out of her fluttering pussy and her legs gave out almost immediately afterward. She practically collapsed on top of Asra, her body warm for once as it pressed against his own. He pushed loose ringlets out of her face and peppered kisses across her cheeks, the bridge of her nose, all the while wrapping his fingers around her wrist to lift his hand up to his mouth.

“What are you doing?”

“I want to taste you.” Asra blinked up at Cadenza, her fingers mere inches from his lips. “Can I taste you?”

“Yes,” Cadenza breathed. “ _Please._ ”

Eyelids fluttering shut with delight, Asra took Cadenza’s fingers into his mouth, sucking on the digits and wrapping his tongue around them to clean them of her cum. He took her fingers as deep as he could, and although he had to fight against his gag reflex, he relished in the noise that Cadenza let out. He eventually removed her fingers from his mouth with a soft pop, making sure to kiss each of her fingertips when he was done. He opened his eyes just in time to catch the flustered look on her face. A smile tugged at his lips—it seemed as though he had finally managed to turn the tables on her. He pressed a slightly sloppy kiss to her lips before speaking.

“I’ve been, um, wanting this for a while. Wanting you.”

“I figured.”

Asra’s cheeks heated. “You did?”

“No,” Cadenza chuckled. “I was confused about how I felt about you for a while, I only really figured out that maybe there was something to it when you kissed me. And then, as you know… I panicked.” She paused. “I have thought about you before, though.”

“You have?”

“I have.” She licked her lips. “But I never knew what to make of it.”

“Do you know what to make of those thoughts now?” Asra whispered, his lips ghosting across her warm cheek.

“I do.” Cadenza lifted herself onto the heels of her hands. She let her gaze trail down Asra’s chest, to the thatch of white curls between his legs. “I want to make you feel good, Asra.”

Asra followed Cadenza’s gaze and inhaled sharply. He wound his fingers through her wild tangles, tugging gently. “Please,” he said, voice strained. Cadenza started to kiss down his chest. “Gods, please,” he sighed when she found where he was wet and waiting for her.

“Shh,” she said softly, her hands maneuvering his legs over her shoulders. “ _Pazienza._ ”

“Yes.” Asra moaned, tightened his grip in Cadenza’s hair. “ _Yes, yes, yes._ ”


	32. Shake It Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cadenza says an explosive goodbye to her past and embraces her future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning(s): guilt-tripping and manipulation.

The sun had long since risen by the time Cadenza and Asra made it downstairs, their belongings in hand or slung across their backs. They were both tired after the night that they had spent tangled together in her bed, but happy and satisfied, too. Heat and colour crept into their cheeks every time they glanced in each other’s direction. Although it was late summer, Asra wore a scarf around his neck and Cadenza had wrapped a shawl around herself in order to hide the marks that they had left on each other’s skin from the prying eyes of Cadenza’s family… which they found waiting for them in the informal dining room.

“ _Did you change your sleep schedule during the year you spent in Vesuvia?_ ” Gioia asked before taking a long sip of her _caffè latte._ “ _You never used to wake up this late._ ” She glanced at the suitcase in her daughter’s hand and frowned. “ _Planning on going somewhere, Enzina?_ ”

Cadenza fought the urge to slump her shoulders, to make herself look smaller than she was. She hadn’t expected this line of questioning to arise so quickly, but she realized that there was no avoiding it and took a deep, steadying breath. “ _I am planning on going somewhere, mamma. I’m going back to Vesuvia._ ”

Dishes and cutlery rattled as Cadenza’s family members abruptly set down whatever it was that they had been holding in their hands before her announcement. Surprise and confusion flashed across her siblings’ features, and briefly across her parents’ faces, too. Rather than settling on shock, however, Gioia and Oliviero’s expressions darkened; their green and brown eyes growing turbulent with what looked to be anger at the perceived insolence of their youngest daughter… of their middle child whose magic had provided them with a comfortable life in the countryside, away from the surrounding villages and the place where they had once lived.

“ _What sort of thoughts did my witch of a sister and your witch of a friend put in your head while you were away?_ ” Gioia spat, rising from her seat at the table to point an accusatory finger at Asra. “ _What poison did they feed you?_ ”

Cadenza stepped in front of Asra, putting herself between him and her mother’s rage. “ _I have been neither hexed nor enchanted, and I certainly haven’t been poisoned,_ ” she replied. “ _I simply realized that there’s more to life than what I’ve endured here, that I have a little something called free will that I can exercise when I choose._ ” She swallowed hard and tilted her chin up proudly. “ _I am choosing to exercise my free will by leaving this place for good._ ”

“ _I- You-_ ” Gioia seemed like she was at a loss for words, leaving Oliviero to step in and take her place in what was shaping up to be Cadenza’s first and last real argument with her parents.

“ _You have responsibilities here, Cadenza. To me. To your mother. To your siblings. You’re not selfish enough to leave us here to struggle, to just barely scrape by like we did this past year without you._ ”

“ _No, you don’t get to put that shit on my shoulders anymore,_ ” Cadenza fired back. “ _I was a child when you put all of your responsibilities on my shoulders,_ ” she added, gesturing at her mother and father. “ _Call me selfish all you wish, but I am not going to stay here just to be used and left to fend for myself against all of the terrible shit that practicing necromancy dredges up in me._ ”

“ _You would take food out of our mouths?_ ” Gioia snapped. “ _Would that make you feel better about yourself, hm, Cadenza?_ ”

“ _Please, I’m not taking food out of anyone’s mouth. You managed to feed and take care of everyone just fine for years and years without me._ ” Cadenza’s voice was hoarse from shouting, but she persisted. “ _You don’t need me. You won’t even miss me. The only thing I am to you is a convenient means to an end._ ”

“ _Do you hear yourself? ‘Just fine’ isn’t good enough. We’ve grown accustomed to a certain way of life now, and-_ ”

“ _That’s not my fault!_ ” Cadenza shouted, cutting off her father. “ _The only ones who are selfish, spoiled, and greedy in this room are you and my mother._ ” She picked up her suitcase with one hand and held Asra’s hand with the other. “ _Shouting at me that I am ruining your life isn’t going to change my mind. I am leaving and that’s final. I had hoped that you would have at least said ‘goodbye,’ but I now realize that I was fooling myself in thinking so._ ”

“ _Aren’t you going to apologize, at least?_ ” Gioia asked with no less acid in her voice when she saw that her daughter really was intent on walking away from them for good. “ _For leaving us hanging like this?_ ”

Cadenza’s step faltered in the doorway and she turned to look over her shoulder one last time at her family. “ _No,_ ” she replied, her tone even and cold. “ _I’m the one who is owed an apology here, but I know that I will never receive it._ ” Her gold-flecked gaze flickered to her siblings: Amata, Bria, Dante, and Eliseo. Her heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice. “ _The only ones here who deserve an apology from me are my siblings. You deserve better and I’m sorry that I can’t do more for you. I love you. I miss the carefree days when we were children. I wish we had more of them._ ”

She paused, waited for one of her siblings to come over to wrap their arms around her, to wish her a tearful goodbye, to tell her that they loved her and would miss her, or even to stand up to their parents. A minute went by and Cadenza’s heart plummeted to her feet when she realized that they truly had nothing to say to her. They weren’t even looking at her anymore. They were all behaving as though she wasn’t there, as though she had never said anything. That wounded her more than anything her parents had said to her and tears finally sprung to her eyes. With nothing left to say, Cadenza turned away for good and started walking, her feet carrying her to the door, and then outside where Faust and Ribbit were waiting for their magicians—or witches, depending on who one asked.

No one said anything—not even Asra, who had been chewing his bottom lip somewhat nervously since the screaming match in Venterrean had started—as they set out on the winding road that would eventually lead them to Vesuvia. Cadenza cried openly, but silently, her tears trickling down her cheeks to splash onto the ground beneath her feet or Ribbit’s head if the patchwork bag inside of which he had settled happened to be in just the wrong spot. Although the raven-haired magician knew that she had made the right magician, her limbs felt heavy with guilt and the sky overhead had darkened, much like her mood, even though the night before had been cloudless.

“Are you okay?” Asra asked softly after about an hour on the road, but only about fifteen minutes after Cadenza’s eyes had stopped shedding tears.

Upon hearing Asra’s voice and feeling him squeeze her hand gently, Cadenza drew her shoulders back and took a deep breath. “I will be.” She turned her head to look at him, a bittersweet smile tugging at her lips. “I did what I had to do. It was difficult, but… it was for the best. I can feel it in my heart.”

The magicians stopped walking and Cadenza set her suitcase down in the dirt in order to hold Asra’s other hand when he extended it to her. They stood facing each other, feeling each other’s heartbeats through the palms of their hands. Their surroundings were growing darker because of the incoming storm clouds, but it didn’t seem to touch the magicians. Asra’s amethyst eyes were luminous, Cadenza’s eyes looked to be more gold than brown considering how the flecks seemed to be glowing. In that moment, standing together in the middle of the road, they could pretend like nothing was wrong. Hell, they didn’t even _need_ to pretend. Although things certainly weren’t great, they were only and undeniably going to get better from there. And they both knew this.

“Asra-”

Before Cadenza could finish her thought, the sky opened up with a rumble that both she and Asra felt in their bones. The rainfall that ensued was so heavy that the magicians were drenched in instants. Cadenza’s mouth hung open in surprise, her eyes screwed shut to prevent rainwater from getting into them, and Asra couldn’t help but laugh at her ridiculous expression. Still laughing, he held his arms out at his sides and tilted his face up to the heavens; relishing in the feeling of rainwater against his warm skin. Once she got over her initial shock, Cadenza wiped the water from her eyes and pushed wet tangles out of her face, folding her arms across her chest while Asra danced in the rain.

“What’s wrong, Enza?” Asra asked when he noticed that Cadenza had not moved an inch, not even to hold a hand out and palm-up to feel the rain drum against her skin. “Not a fan of this sort of weather?”

“I prefer to listen to the sound of the rain while indoors and wrapped in blankets.”

Asra closed his eyes, let himself be transported briefly by the sounds of the rainstorm. “Mm, I love it.”

“I would enjoy it more if I wasn’t going to be stuck in soaking wet clothes.” Cadenza tried to wring out her dress, but it was no use. She shook her head. “Seriously, the next village is pretty far. We could catch our deaths out here.”

Asra opened his eyes and stopped, looking in Cadenza’s direction. Surely enough, she was shivering. When he moved closer to her to run a hand down one of her arms, she immediately leaned into his touch even though he wasn’t much warmer than her. “Let’s find some cover, then. Wait out the worst of the storm.”

Between her chattering teeth and the roar of the storm filling her ears, all Cadenza could do was nod in answer. Asra grasped one of her hands in his, linked their fingers together, and started to tug her in the direction of a dense thicket of trees a little ways away from the main road. The rain started coming down harder then, rapidly turning the dirt beneath their feet into mud and causing it to splash up to their shins what with the force of the water pelting it. Perhaps not too cleverly, the pair of magicians picked up their pace in their hurry to get out of the downpour, and the slippery mud beneath their feet combined with the slight incline of the ground caused them to crash through some of the low-hanging branches at the edge of the thicket.

The magicians crashed into the thick trunk of a tree, Asra’s back slamming against the sturdy wood and Cadenza slamming against his chest, knocking the air out of his lungs for a few terrifying moments. Fortunately, neither of their familiars nor Cadenza’s violin were hurt or damaged in the process. Although their dash for cover had been less than graceful, the tree that they had collapsed against had a very dense foliage that shielded them from the intense downpour. The rain was reduced to no more than an all-enveloping _pitter-patter_ and a couple of stray drops that made their way through the leaves. Cadenza sighed heavily and pressed her forehead against Asra’s.

“Is something wrong?” Asra asked, his voice slightly strained.

“No… maybe.” Cadenza sighed again. “I don’t know.”

“You did something incredibly difficult today. You’re allowed to cut yourself some slack for how it went over.”

“I guess, it’s just that- Gods, how do I phrase this? My ‘goodbye’ went pretty much exactly the way that I expected it to go—I’m disappointed that I wasn’t proven wrong.”

“Ah.” Asra thought back to the blank looks that he had seen on the faces of Cadenza’s siblings, to the silence that had ensued her final words. “I think I understand what you’re trying to say. You’re disappointed that they didn’t give you a real reason to stay.”

“Yeah.” Cadenza swallowed hard. “That’s it,” she said quietly.

Asra wrapped his arms around Cadenza. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his lips brushing against her earlobe.

“What are you sorry for?”

“I don’t know how to comfort you.”

“You’re here. You’re holding me.” Cadenza pressed a hand against Asra’s chest. “Your heart is beating in time with my own.” She gazed into his eyes. “That’s enough for me right now.”

Their lips were wet with rainwater when they finally met and Cadenza was unable to hold back a moan when Asra deepened the kiss: his hands winding through her rain-soaked curls while her hands came up to tug the hair at the nape of his neck. Their grips on each other only grew tighter from there, as though they were afraid of what would happen if they let go. Asra tasted like the storm and he moved like it, too, pressing his body close to Cadenza’s one moment and pulling away the next; alternating between giving her kisses that were as barely-there as the droplets that splashed on them through the leaves and ones as intense as the rumble of distant thunder.

It was Cadenza who finally had to break the kiss, breathless and overwhelmed when she leaned her forehead against Asra’s once more. “I’m free,” she whispered, a tremble in her voice.

“What was that?”

“I’m free,” Cadenza repeated herself more forcefully, more confidently. “ _I’m free._ ” She let out a breathless laugh, her lips skimming the corner of Asra’s mouth.

“Yes, you are.” Asra tilted his head to kiss Cadenza’s neck, right over her pulse point. He held her tightly in his arms. “Good things lie ahead for you, Enza. I’m sure of it.”

Cadenza squeezed her eyes shut briefly before opening them again, looking at Asra through her wet eyelashes. “You know,” she said, _beaming_ at him; her heart still beating in time with his, “for once I believe it.”


End file.
